50 Report Two while older men shave theirs off, ostensibly as a sign of their married status. Others believe that this is simply a sign of how well the Gundarakite women have cowed their men, but suggesting this in northern Invidia is tantamount to an invitation to fight. Ethnic Falkovnians also have a visible presence, though they seldom intermingle with the larger populace. Fashion Invidians consider excessive decoration to be foppish and decadent, suitable only for festivals. Men wear tunics, breeches and boots or soft leather shoes, while women dress in loose blouses and layered skirts. Usually these clothes are of neutral colors — white, gray, tan or pale yellow, with occasional flashes of color in the form of scarves, belts, or undertunics. Jewelry is worn by both sexes, usually in the form of single earrings. Women have more options and can wear more jewelry before being accused of excess — rings, necklaces and bracelets in moderation. Nobles and wealthy individuals wear the same styles of clothing as commoners, though they are made from finer cloth and are more carefully tailored and crafted. As with the peasants, the nobles are conscious not to wear too much jewelry or dress in inappropriately fancy clothing. The only exceptions to this austerity in dress come during celebrations. At weddings, brides and grooms are expected to wear their best, most colorful and elaborate clothing. Guests also wear their finest attire, but purposely trying to outshine the newlyweds is considered poor taste. Wedding clothes are never worn again, but are kept in the married couple’s home as a reminder of their vows and the happiness of their wedding day. Festival garb is nothing short of outlandish, as the Invidians clothe themselves in garish colors, twirling beads, and ribbons for their merry-making. Such costumes are often completed with brightly colored wooden masks, carved in elaborate, animalistic shapes and adorned with found materials such as polished stones and feathers. Those Invidians who can afford festival garb often wear it year after year. In the north, the Gundarakites stubbornly maintain their own individuality even as Lord Malocchio’s troops try to transform them into good, law-abiding Invidians. Breeches and loose shirts are the rule for men, usually worn with embroidered woolen vests. Women wear long skirts, blouses and shawls. Unmarried women typically
51 Invidia wear colorful head scarves. Gundarakite clothing is more colorful than that of the Invidians, usually in muted shades of gray, blue, green or red. Falkovnians, for their part, are rarely seen out of their military uniforms. Language Balok is the land’s official language, spoken by almost all native inhabitants. Those descended from the Kartakans sometimes speak Vaasi as a second language or speak it in the home, reserving Balok for public discussion. The Gundarakites stubbornly stick to their melodious native tongue Luktar, though most have learned Balok out of necessity. Some nobles speak Mordentish, but knowledge of this scholarly tongue sometimes causes difficulty, with other Invidians considering it snooty and suspiciously intellectual. Falkovnian soldiers serving in Invidia continue to speak their native language, though most know a smattering of Balok. Curriculos, I saw no fewer than six fights, two of which involved a half-dozen combatants on each side. I must admit that at times, I felt as if I had wandered into a Borcan opera. Given the Invidians’ passionate natures and the fact that they tend to marry young, usually impulsively, it is not surprising that marital infidelity is common, as are duels and fights resulting from adulterous liaisons. At an inn one night, a merchant said he never dealt with Invidians, for a man who agreed to a deal one day might be slain the next. When I asked why he didn’t deal with the women, he informed me they were worse than the men, with stabbings, poisonings and murder by proxy (such as persuading a lover to kill on their behalf) favorite weapons of Invidian females. I do not mean that the Invidians are devoid of good qualities, though the heat of their passions colors all reference to them by the outside world. To have an “Invidian heart” is a terrible insult elsewhere, implying that one is ruled by his passions and acts without thinking. Yet when they are not trying to kill one another, the Invidians are an industrious, hard-working folk, who love as fiercely as they hate. They are well adapted to the outdoors and skilled in the ways of the farmer, the vintner, the herdsman and the woodsman. Despite their relatively small population and the fact that many farms exist in a virtual state of siege, assailed on all sides by bandits, beasts, and the soldiers and tax collectors of the tyrant Malocchio, the Invidians produce far more food than they need. They are able to export some produce outside their borders. The Invidians are — surprisingly — not terribly warlike. In the past, local nobles maintained their own small retinues and fought in feuds that were almost comical in their ineptitude and size. Bakholis expanded the Invidian military, but Gabrielle Aderre allowed it to collapse entirely once more. It was her soldiers who occupied western Gundarak, but this is one of only a handful of Invidian military adventures. For the most part, the typical Invidian prefers to fight his kinsmen far more than his distant neighbors. As in most places, the rich tend to look down upon the poor, while the commoners consider the nobles to be stuffy and decadent. There is some truth to this, for Invidian nobles (whose titles are either hereditary or rewarded to valuable servants by Lord Malocchio) are notoriously ineffectual, and commoners tend to be fairly obstinate and ignorant. There is little real distinction among the Language Primer Once again, I expand on the vocabulary established in earlier reports. English Balok English Luktar day zi man bábu night noapte woman no sun soare child gyermek moon luna life élet town oras death halál inn han love szerelem betrayal tradare betrayal elárulás jealousy gelozie jealousy féltékenység Lifestyle & Education Among Invidians, appearance is less defining than character, for they are known throughout the Core for their passionate, hot-tempered nature. Bitter, brooding and given to sudden explosions of temper, Invidians never forget a slight and bear grudges for generations. Long-standing feuds over forgotten insults have claimed hundreds of lives over the years, and duels (or brawls) of honor are commonplace. An evening at an Invidian tavern is considered dull if only one fight occurs. My own experiences bear out the popular image of these tempestuous, fiery people. As I wandered through the small settlements north of
52 Report Two classes, and until recently, Invidian society tended to be fairly open, with opportunities for all to better their lives through work and determination. Malocchio’s iron-fisted rule has changed this somewhat. Education is a rare — and distrusted — commodity. Anyone who reads too much or owns more books than a religious text or a farming manual is treated with suspicion. Spells come out of books, and spells are dangerous (see below), and those who read too many books inevitably come up with wild, disruptive ideas that bring sorrow and pain to those around them. Reading is uncommon among the peasants and only slightly more widespread among the nobility. Most education takes place in the fields, where sons and daughters learn the ways of the farm, vineyard or herd from their parents. When it comes to outsiders, the Invidian’s darker nature once more asserts itself. Foreigners are distrusted, nonhumans feared, and the nomadic Vistani hated with unbridled ferocity. Both Gabrielle and her son take great pains to exploit the common folks’ prejudices, engaging in extensive, slanderous campaigns against the Vistani, spreading black and ugly rumors about their secret practices and blaming the nomads for almost every ill that plagues Invidian society. Some even believe that Vistani witches are responsible for the violence of common Invidian life, claiming their sorceresses drive men and women to assault and murder through magic. areas prefer rabbit and venison. Spicy sausage called karntzlach is standard fare for all three meals at Invidian inns and taverns. Meats are mildly spiced with parsley, peppers, onions, or juniper berries, though occasionally more daring spices such as cumin, anise and even saffron are used (this last is reserved for the wealthiest families, for it is quite rare in the Core). Barovian pastries such as placinte turnovers are sometimes served for dessert, but considered an expensive and unnecessary luxury by most Invidians, who feel that a nice apple or pear is treat enough. Drink is simple and plentiful, with black beer and ale as the realm’s most popular intoxicants. Barovian plum brandy is a common export, but most Invidians prefer wines from local vineyards, which produce a wide variety of grapes, yielding wines ranging from crisp, pale white to dark bloody red. Attitudes Toward Magic Invidians tend to be superstitious and fearful of magic. Most believe magic an evil, dark force. The Invidians make a distinction between “miracles” (their name for divine magic) and “ensorcelments” (arcane magic). Mages must be careful about casting spells where they can be seen, lest local militia or guards arrive with swords drawn, demanding explanations. In a few villages, hedge wizards or wise women practice their art, so long as their spells are all helpful and they never charge too much for their services. Elsewhere, spellcasting crones or ancient wizards live in isolated, wild regions, secretly visited by commoners seeking potions, divinations, or magical vengeance against rivals. Though the Invidians claim that only a handful of these spellcasters exist, they all do brisk business, never lacking for clients. Druidic magic holds an unusual and precarious position among the Invidians. Neither miracle nor ensorcelment, druidic spellcasting has elements of both, some of which are considered beneficial (aiding crops, enhancing growth, calling upon friendly animals, and so forth), while others are clearly harmful (causing damage, summoning dangerous animals, turning natural forces and elements against enemies). In general, druids are tolerated by common unspoken agreement unless they are known to cast destructive spells, in which case they are driven from their community, assaulted, or even killed. How foolish. One does not need to waste valuable magic in order to make peasants kill one another…. They will do it readily enough without arcane intervention. Invidians enjoy relaxing with a mug of ale and a fine joint of beef. Their bounty of inns and taverns are usually brightly lit, joyful centers of community activity. Loud and frequently ribald songs and exuberant dances are common, especially during festival times at harvest, planting and midsummer. Invidians have little tolerance for those who cannot hold their liquor. Even the food of the peasantry is satisfying, if somewhat plain. Soups such as sour chicken, sour mutton, cauliflower, or egg soup usually start the meal, followed by a main dish, often a stew or roast of pork, beef or chicken. Fish stewis served seasonally in river villages. Hunters and those in rural
53 Invidia Of course, necromancy is feared even more than ordinary magic, for the farms and villages of Invidia sometimes must deal with the shambling results of death magic, and Invidian folklore is filled with stories of vampires, ghouls, ghosts and other undead monstrosities. Necromancy is officially illegal, but those caught practicing it rarely make it to Karina for trial. Usually, they are dispatched by mob justice and hanged from trees, their remains cremated and scattered on the winds lest they return demanding vengeance. In some villages, simply accusing another of necromancy is tantamount to a death sentence and is a wellknown way of disposing of a rival or enemy. Religion Though most Invidians claim to be devout, most also say that they have little time for religion and do not worry too much about the afterlife. We are all going to the same place, they say, and if one lives a good life and does as little harm as possible, there is little to fear after death (save of course reanimation as one of the undead, but that is a common fear everywhere). The Invidian Hero This section presents information potentially useful in creating PCs native to Invidia. Races: Invidians are almost exclusively human, of mixed Barovian and Kartakan heritage. Nonhumans make up less than 1% of the total population and are regarded with superstition and distrust by commoners. Half-Vistani risk their lives by entering the domain. In the north, the Gundarakites descend from the same root stock as the Barovians, but stick doggedly to their own culture. Classes: Most Invidian heroes are either fighters or rogues. Bards are fairly common, some of whom learned their craft from the famous Kartakans. Sorcerers are not uncommon, but usually practice their craft only in the larger towns. Magic in rural areas is a delicate matter, as spellcasters must carefully avoid displaying any destructive magic. Wizards fill the same role, but are far less common. Clerics are rare and usually serve Ezra as wandering healers and priests, but are generally trusted. Druids lie somewhere between sorcerers and clerics and must be careful what kinds of spells they cast lest they trigger an angry response from the common folk. Paladins, barbarians and monks are all but unknown. Recommended Skills: Bluff, Gather Information, Intimidate, Profession (brewer, herbalist), Sense Motive, Survival. Recommended Feats: Combat Reflexes, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (firearms), Improved Initiative, Lunatic, Quick Draw, Weapon Focus (dagger, musket). Invidian male names: Adi, Adrian, Badun, Costine, Dimitru, Gogu, Haslav, Horatu, Mikal, Petre, Radu, Vasili, Vaslav. Invidian female names: Ameli, Antoaneta, Celestina, Diona, Elena, Florenta, Gabrielle, Ileana, Ivona, Ligia, Lizuça, Marilena, Nicoleta, Ridiçea, Teadora, Zina. As well it should be. The majority of Invidians profess belief and faith in Ezra, and many practice the Home Faith of Borca. Some Invidians adhere to the Mordentish See, while a few embrace the apocalyptic faith of distant Nevuchar Springs. Religion is only a minor part of daily life. The few true clerics who follow Ezra are usually itinerants, moving from village to village in a pre-ordained route. Traveling anchorites spend a few days in each settlement, curing wounds, helping the sick, and casting beneficial spells for those who ask. A small tithe is expected in exchange, but few turn away a destitute peasant. A single Ezran temple exists in Invidia; located on the road between Karina and Beltis, it is under the authority of Sentire Gudrescu, the highest-ranking anchorite in the land. She is served by
54 Report Two ten acolytes and provides worship services, monetary assistance, and accommodations to the Ezran anchorites who wander the realm. Though Ezra is the predominant faith, another, hidden in the shadows and rarely spoken of, remains potent and influential. The worship of the goddess Hala has always existed in the region and continues to be practiced, despite popular dislike and fear of its practitioners. Witchcraft has been officially forbidden since the days of Bakholis. Those openly practicing witchcraft risk arrest, trial and imprisonment, for common wisdom declares that witches are dark, malevolent beings intent only on inflicting pain and suffering. Recently, as Malocchio’s grip on the nation grows tighter, those found guilty of multiple instances of witchcraft have been executed, many by burning or hanging. Still, worship of Hala continues in secret, with parents passing down wisdom and religious faith to their children, and Hala’s witches learning their spells in dark glades, isolated clearings, or ancient ruins. Of course, the secretive nature of the faith only enflames common superstition and is seized upon as proof positive of the witches’ malevolent nature. The Realm ever the strongest or most wisely-ruled of realms, Invidia remains a divided land in the ever-closing grip of tyranny. The excesses of its rulers polarize the populace, though besides the northern Gundarakites, few have been driven to open rebellion. This may change as the conflict between Malocchio and his mother moves to the boiling point or if a powerful neighbor chooses to retaliate over Malocchio’s persecution of the Vistani. The realm’s lord and master is Malocchio Aderre, self-proclaimed Dukkar and also called (in the manner of his forebears) the Traitor King and Scourge of the Vistani. Malocchio’s strange origins have led to endless speculation among the masses over his true nature. None of the tales are flattering. I find it difficult to identify a specific dread lord in Invidia; the country’s soil is red with the blood of former rulers. Although evidence indicates that Gabrielle Aderre may have claimed the mantle from Bakholis, Malocchio is now rapidly eclipsing her in both power and infamy. If Malocchio is not the dread lord, it may well be his goal to become so. Gabrielle remains leader of the fractured and scattered Gundarakite rebels. Professing to a change of heart and offering the rebels valuable information about their foes, Gabrielle maintains her power through the sly manipulation of fact and emotion and by keeping the rebel leader Ardonk Szerieza wrapped around her finger. In this way, Gabrielle now holds the strings of independence movements in both Invidia and Barovia, though her control may be slipping. Initially defeated by the rebels, Malocchio has since turned his attention to the Vistani, whom he has sworn to destroy utterly. No one knows why Malocchio hates the Vistani so; a hatred of this intensity can scarcely be measured by sane minds. Some speculate that he inherited his passionate abhorrence for the gypsies from his mother, who blamed the Vistani for her mother’s exile and poverty, but I am of the belief that something far darker is at work here. The Vistani roam wherever they wish, scoffing even the dictates of the dread lords — but this land, they avoid like a plague. Aside from the pogrom against the gypsies, Malocchio has set himself to unite Invidia, forging it into the mold of Falkovnia, Barovia and Darkon. He expanded the realm’s military, training his soldiers in mass tactics, bolstered with Falkovnian troops. Large portions of the kingdom’s treasury fund weapon and armor production, and much of the nation’s harvest surplus is requisitioned to feed Malocchio’s mercenaries. Government Invidia has long been a realm with inconstant rulers; even when united under a single banner, a ruler’s authority never extended much beyond the larger settlements. Recently, Lord Malocchio entrenched hired swords and established a far stronger central authority. Expanded authority means that Malocchio can no longer afford to rule alone, exclusively by decree. He has established the King’s Chamber, an Unlikely, little scholar. I know his kind, with much thanks to you. He chafes enough under the chains he already bears; killing his mother would simply add another. The answer required here is how to give him that which he does seek.
55 Invidia assembly of nobles and wealthy Invidians tasked to advise and counsel the king in all of his decisions. Currently, the Chamber has sixteen members, ranging from the elderly duce, Ciudaru of Tancos, to the youthful Sir Stefan of Curriculo, who was knighted at the tender age of fifteen when he helped save a merchant caravan from Gundarakite bandits. In reality, the Chamber serves little purpose other than to endorse Malocchio’s decisions. It mollifies the populace, who feel that their nobles and prominent citizens have a say in national affairs. This is important, as Malocchio is expanding Invidian authority beyond larger settlements — indeed, beyond Invidia’s borders. He cannot do this without troops, and in a land with fewer than 7,000 inhabitants, a large army is hard to come by and even harder to maintain once assembled. Despite the laxity of her rule, Gabrielle left her son a small but well-trained militia, numbering a few hundred among the various settlements. Malocchio expanded this army to nearly a thousand, though not enough to fulfill his ambitions. He hired foreign mercenaries and allows Vlad Drakov, whom Malocchio greatly admires, to send a regiment of his best soldiers. Malocchio’s army has swollen to nearly 1,700, an enormous force given the size of the populace. Most Invidian units are armed with swords and crossbows, but a small number of troops are being trained to use muskets. So far, this impressive force has been employed to suppress banditry, secure the borders, and keep smaller villages in line. Malocchio hopes soon to unleash his forces on the Gundarakite rebels of the northeast. The villages of Invidia, once largely independent, have been drawn under Malocchio’s control. Small garrisons have been placed in settlements of more than 50 individuals, and others are regularly patrolled. Taxes, once collected sporadically or not at all, are now demanded on a regular basis and have been increasing of late. Malocchio’s tax collectors are among the most feared individuals in the kingdom, for they have almost limitless power to enforce the tyrant’s decrees. Malocchio does not tolerate dissent. He has spies and informants in many settlements and recruits wandering merchants and clerics to report back to Karina with information on dissent, rebellion or subversive activities. Recently, Malocchio has begun to recruit agents into his secret police, the Lord‘s Men. This Law Enforcement Invidian mercenaries are well trained and equipped, and Malocchio gives them considerable authority within the nation. Still, their numbers are not sufficient to patrol or govern the entire realm, so much local defense falls to ill-equipped militias. The Lord’s Men are Malocchio’s elite agents. Though few in number, they are charged with keeping the peace and maintaining security at all costs and with virtually unlimited powers. Invidian Mercenary: Invidian Mercenary: Human War2; CR 1; Medium human- Invidian Mercenary: oid (human); HD 2d8, hp 9; Init +0; Spd 20 ft.; AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17; Base Atk +2; Grp +2; Atk +3 melee (1d8/19–20, longsword) or +2 ranged (1d8/19–20, light crossbow); Full Atk +3 melee (1d8/19–20, longsword) or +2 ranged (1d8/19–20, light crossbow); AL LN; SV Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 11, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 10. Skills and Feats: Intimidate +4, Listen +2, Sense Motive +2, Spot +2; Power Attack, Weapon Focus (longsword). Possessions: Longsword, breastplate, light crossbow, 10 bolts, large steel shield. Invidian Militia: Invidian Militia: Human War1; CR 1/2; Medium humanoid Invidian Militia: (human); HD 1d8, hp 4; Init +0; Spd 30 ft.; AC 14, touch 10, flat-footed 14; Base Atk +1; Grp +1; Atk +1 melee (1d8/19– 20, longsword) or +1 ranged (1d6/x3, shortbow); Full Atk +1 melee (1d8/19–20, longsword) or +1 ranged (1d6/x3, shortbow); AL LN; SV Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 11, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 11, Cha 10. Skills and Feats: Handle Animal +3, Intimidate +3, Listen +1, Spot +2; Dodge, Endurance. Possessions: Longsword, short bow, 20 arrows, studded leather armor, small wooden shield. Lord’s Man: Lord’s Man: Human Ftr5; CR 5; Medium humanoid (hu- Lord’s Man: man); HD 5d10+10, hp 35; Init +2; Spd 20 ft.; AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17; Base Atk +5; Grp +8; Atk +10 melee (1d8+3/19–20, longsword) or +8 ranged (1d8+3/x3, composite longbow [+3 Str bonus]); Full Atk +10 melee (1d8+3/ 19–20, longsword) or +8 ranged (1d8+3/x3, composite longbow [+3 Str bonus]); AL LE; SV Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +3; Str 16, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 10. Skills and Feats: Climb +5, Gather Information +2, Intimidate +4, Ride (horse) +6, Sense Motive +2, Swim +4; Cleave, Dodge, Iron Will, Power Attack, Quick Draw, Weapon Focus (longsword). Possessions: Masterwork longsword, masterwork composite longbow (+3 Str bonus), 20 arrows, masterwork chainmail, masterwork large steel shield.
56 Report Two select group is even more feared than the tax collectors, for no one truly knows who they are. Any stranger could be one of the tyrant’s secret agents, making the insular Invidian peasantry even less friendly toward outsiders than they were before Malocchio came to power. These deadly individuals are all living blades, dedicated utterly to their ruler and ready to root out even the slightest hint of disloyalty in his subjects. Empowered to arrest, try and execute on the spot, they seize luckless dissidents and carry them off for interrogation (which usually ends with the victim dead or hopelessly crippled). All are trained in combat and skilled in surreptitious observation, entry, intuition and the finding of the truth. The Lord’s Men are utterly incorruptible, and no amount of gold will stay them from following their Malocchio’s edicts to the letter. Bribing a Lord’s Man to arrest or prosecute falsely an innocent subject is even worse in their eyes, and anyone so foolish as to attempt such a thing will find his life ending swiftly and very painfully. Commoners usually ascribe this unwavering loyalty to one of two reasons: either Malocchio has recruited them by granting them the ability to enact their most sadistic fantasies, or he has simply bewitched them. Away from the larger towns, beyond the view of most of his populace, the Dukkar is said to command even stranger minions. Supposedly, the beasts of the forests and the birds of the air are his to command, and he has even found some way to recruit — however temporarily — the monstrous, man-flesh eating ogres and other lumbering hulks said to roam the southwest wilds. Economy The Invidian economy was never well centralized, with each individual village an independent economic unit. Since Malocchio chose to unite the country under his bloody banner, Invidia’s economy has become more sophisticated and integrated. Invidia’s farms are notably productive, bringing in more food than the nation needs in all save the most desperate famine years. Barley, rye, wheat and oats are most common; hops are also grown for the brewing industry. Potatoes and cabbages raised in poorer soil have been known to succumb to blight. Fortunately, other food crops took up the slack and there has rarely been any starvation. Vintners and brewers take the grapes and grains and transform them into wines, beers, ales and other intoxicants. These beverages are probably Invidia’s most profitable export and are actually well known outside the realm. Today, Invidian wines and beers are popular in Falkovnia, Barovia, Borca and Kartakass. Mining is rare, but what little there is provides sulfur and salt. Sulfur is used to bleach dried fruit for export and is sent to other nations for use in the production of gunpowder. Salt also provides a small but important source of income. Finished goods — tools, armor, weapons, clothing and utensils — are imported from other realms. Malocchio has started building armories and forges around Karina, but so far only a trickle of nativeproduced weapons and armor has emerged. Invidia maintains strong trade relationships. Trade with Barovia, most of which takes place along the Gundar River, is heavy even as Count Strahd calls for an end to cross-border raids. Borca and Falkovnia remain important partners, though once more tensions may disrupt trade as Borca’s rulers grow impatient with Malocchio’s pogroms. Much of the Invidian economy operates informally by the barter system. National currency exists as nondescript coins known as the bitterbit (copper), which features a stylized bear’s head on one face and a symbolic heart on the other; the sweetpiece (silver), a silver coin with crossed swords and a man’s hand on either side; and the drymark (gold). One face of the drymark bears a trout, considered a symbol of luck and prosperity, while the other features the image of the land’s ruler when the coin was struck. Currently, most drymarks have Malocchio’s face, but some have Gabrielle’s, and a few can still be found bearing the hated image of Bakholis. Diplomacy Initially, Lord Malocchio seemed ready to make diplomatic inroads in the Core, replacing his mother’s lackadaisical governance with strong rule and active relations with other nations. Within a few years, his true nature emerged. Though he was indeed the strong ruler that Invidia watchers expected, his firm rule quickly transformed into steel-booted tyranny as his soldiers occupied towns, savagely suppressed dissent, and set out on a bloody pogroms. For the most part, the rulers of the Core have little care for how other nations are ruled. So long as nothing crosses the frontier to unsettle a ruler’s own peasantry and nobles, a monarch or darklord
57 Invidia can spill oceans of blood and persecute the common folk to his heart’s content. Yet Malocchio’s hatred of the Vistani extends beyond his own borders, as his troops pursue fleeing Vistani into Borca, Barovia, Verbrek, and even Sithicus. Neighboring realms have complained, but their increasingly angry responses have fallen on deaf ears and the incursions continue. In spite of growing tensions, its position as a nexus for river travel allows Invidia to maintain strong trade relations with its neighbors, and its increasingly affluent merchant class secretly wishes that the tyrant would keep within his own frontiers and stop antagonizing potential customers. Barovia: Relations with Barovia are tense and problematic, even though wealth flows between both realms. Until Malocchio’s ascension, the realms maintained a friendly if somewhat distant relationship and were united by their mutual occupation of Gundarak. Though interaction between Invidia and Barovia got off to a promising start, Malocchio’s hatred of the Vistani — who dwell in Barovia under the official protection of its ruler, Strahd — has since brought the two nations to the brink of open conflict. Invidian forces pursuing Vistani across the border have entered Barovia on several occasions, triggering a strong response from Strahd’s army. After several dozen Invidian soldiers perished under Barovian swords, Malocchio reconsidered his policies and has since forbidden his troops from crossing the border — openly. Despite his public retraction, the Barovians claim that the pursuits continue and have even produced some Invidian prisoners to back up their claims. Exacerbating the situation is Castle Hunadora, haven to many of the rebels who plague Strahd’s forces in western Barovia. Even though he has strengthened and united his chaotic realm, the tyrant would be hopelessly outmatched in a conflict with his most powerful neighbor. Barovia can field an army that outnumbers Invidia’s entire population, and Strahd’s armed conquest of eastern Gundarak stands as bloody evidence of the count’s willingness to employ force when necessary. his borders. There have been no major incursions since Dilisnya’s declaration, though a few minor incidents occurred, involving squads of Invidian mercenaries who were quickly driven across the border by angry Borcan troops. Malocchio may have told his soldiers to be more discreet in their pursuits, but no one believes that the crisis will abate any time soon. Falkovnia: Invidia has few contacts beyond its immediate neighbors, the prime exception being Falkovnia, whose ruler Vlad Drakov sees in Malocchio a younger version of himself and an invaluable military ally. Falkovnian troops patrol the roads, guard the borders, escort tax collectors and from time to time burn down the farmsteads of uncooperative peasants. This duty grates on the normally bellicose Falkovnian troops, most of whom wait with bloodthirsty anticipation for Lord Malocchio to unleash them upon the recalcitrant Gundarakite rebels. About 600 Falkovnians serve in the Invidian military, and more are expected soon, though Ivana Boritsi has forbidden Falkovnian troops to cross her territory. Kartakass: Kartakan history claims that the Invidians once occupied their realm. This ancient enmity made relations between the two lands rocky and distrustful, at least until the overthrow of the werewolf-lord Bakholis, when the Kartakans threw off their dislike of their northern neighbor and embarked on more friendly relations. Trade routes sprang up, via Sithicus and Barovia, and Kartakan bards roamed the land, singing and entertaining the Invidian peasants. As with most other nations, Malocchio’s excesses have alienated the Kartakans as well; since the tyrant’s rise, trade between the realms has fallen off, and Kartakan minstrels are not so welcome as they once were. Sithicus: To the south lies Sithicus, another realm with a weak central authority. The Invidians fear the unknown reaches of the elven forest, particularly after the nightmarish failure of the Night of Screaming Shadows. Several secret paths lead through the Breadth Forest into Sithicus, but these are known only to the Vistani, who use them to flee the realm if pressed by Malocchio’s troops. For their part, Invidians are reluctant to follow, and the few units that have done so — mostly foreign mercenaries restless for real bloodshed — have not returned. A single precarious trade route cuts through the northeastern corner of Sithicus, linking Invidia with Kartakass. The Sithican Passage is reasonably This might be used. Borca: Trade with the sullen Borcans has declined in recent years as tensions between the two states increase. Ivan Dilisnya has sworn armed retaliation against any Invidian troops found within
58 Report Two safe, though travelers often speak of mysterious lights, strange sounds in the forest, and annoyance by fey and other sylvan creatures. Most trade between Kartakass and Invidia takes the longer but more reliable river route through Barovia. Verbrek: Invidia maintains no formal relations with its wild neighbor, for there is no real government to be found. Sparsely populated and haunted by monstrous wolves and other creatures, Verbrek has proved a frequent refuge for the Vistani; they alone can travel those unbroken woods without fear. Invidian troops have no qualms and suffer no real consequences for pursuing the Vistani into Verbrek. Verbrek’s masters take little notice of Invidian activity, save when their precious wolves are endangered. Woe unto any Invidians who harm the region’s wolves, for they invariably find themselves pursued, lucky to escape the realm with their lives. Little if any trade exists between Invidia and Verbrek, for the fearful peasants of the latter realm have little money to spare, and the Invidians have no real motivation to brave the wolf-haunted depths of the forests. The Musarde remains a vital trade route, however, so Invidia cannot afford to put the Verbrekers too far out of their minds. Sites of Interest nvidia is not terribly civilized — less than half its small population live in its two major towns, with the remainder living in tiny settlements. Most villages cluster along the river, with a few isolated farms, vineyards and ranches sprinkled nearby. Few live more than an hour’s ride from a town or village. Karina The realm’s capital lies on the northern bank of the Noisette River. A decaying town, Karina is kept alive with trade from Barovia, Falkovnia and Borca. Its docks crowd with small merchant vessels taking on cargoes of grain, wine, beer and produce, and unloading finished goods such as textiles, tools, weapons, clothing and leather items. Although the town looks and feels deserted throughout most of the year, its population swells to as much as 7,000 during its Harvest Carnival, a weeklong festival that ends with the first full moon of each October. So famed is this revelry, that it draws affluent celebrants from across the western Core. The locked and empty taverns and inns one sees during the rest of the year exist simply to handle this annual overflow. Karina’s stone walls are low and in poor repair, but rigorously patrolled by Malocchio’s guards. Generally, these guards are native Invidians. Not even Malocchio is willing to risk popular disapproval by giving such sensitive duties to foreigners. Architecture is typical of the realm: tall, narrow buildings with steep gabled roofs packed together in seemingly random order. Karina’s streets are a confusing labyrinth, and outsiders may wander for hours before finding their way out — or, worse, into the thieves’ quarter, from which they are lucky to emerge with only their purses missing. Foreigners usually stay in the areas around the docks or the bridges, where most of the town’s inns and taverns are located. Law enforcement in these areas is reasonably lax, as merchants are still welcome and encouraged. Flagrant abuse of the law will bring a quick response from the city watch or, in especially violent situations, squads of Falkovnian soldiers detailed to keep the peace in these areas. The Falkovnians are billeted in a small neighborhood on the west side of town, once the site of the Falkovnian trade enclave. Talon Commander Anton Regess, a veteran of the Dead Man’s Campaign, leads them. Divided in two by the north-south Tower Road, Karina’s wealthy eastern half is inhabited by nobles, merchants and more prosperous members of the middle class. West Karina is more jumbled, dirty and dangerous, crowded with dilapidated buildings, slums and burned-out ruins. This side of town is home to criminals, madmen and worse. Towering above the twisted streets is the Citadel, the city’s administrative center. An ancient-looking fortress of black stone, the Citadel has grown in recent years, and the main structure is now surrounded by a tangle of wooden structures. Some sections of the structure have fallen into disrepair or show signs of having been gutted by fire, but Malocchio has better things to do than renovate and abandons older sections as they fall out of use. It is said that much of the place is haunted, especially by the ghosts of those who perished when Bakholis was overthrown. The best known of these spirits is named Manfred Taige: once chief steward, he was slain when the fortress’ garrison rose up after Bakholis’ death. Constantly guarded by Malocchio’s best native Invidians (service here is open only to those soldiers who are utterly above suspicion), the Cita-
59 Invidia del headquarters the Lord’s Men, while the realm’s tax collectors are housed in one of the fortress’ subterranean chambers. The city treasury is close by, constantly monitored by Malocchio’s scribes and accountants. At one corner of the Citadel is the dreaded black tower, where Malocchio’s enemies disappear and rarely, if ever, return. The tyrant is known to employ a squad of especially accomplished torturers, several of whom were trained in the dungeons of Vlad Drakov. Passersby claim that the screams of Malocchio’s captives can be heard from the street. Adjacent to the black tower is the prison tower. Ordinary criminals, bandits, beggars and other undesirables are kept here, and although they are not tormented as systematically as the prisoners in the black pits, their lives are not appreciably better. The prison’s warden is Captain Johnannes van Deusen, who does double duty as captain in charge of the city’s defense. He is known to be corrupt and easily bribed, but so far he has not been caught in the act. The city’s other best-known landmark is the tall yellow granite clock tower known as the Goldfinger. Built by and home to a cantankerous old hermit known only as the Engineer, the tower has a large clock on each of its four faces and is invaluable when negotiating the city’s winding, twisted streets. The Engineer is an expert clockmaker, responsible for building all of the clocks presently in the city. Years have passed since he last left the tower, and the place is now patrolled by Malocchio’s guards. Nobles and wealthy Invidians live on the east side of town, where one also finds the Art_ Colegiu, a small but exclusive art school that has drawn students from as far north as Darkon. The poverty and danger of the city increases the further west one goes from Tower Road. The westernmost slums are the worst; here, the city’s small but efficient thieves’ guild holds sway. Bribes and blackmail keep local guards and meddling noblemen quiet, while local merchants operate only if they keep up their protection payments. The Vistani outcast known as Scar Tabor controls the Karina thieves’ guild, ruling through violence and ruthlessness. The city’s leading citizen is Mayor Zachary Beauchamps, a fussy and officious man who lives in a tidy mansion near the Citadel. Despite his annoying demeanor, he is an efficient and intelligent politician who survived the rise of Malocchio and who keeps the city running despite its disorganized, wild nature. Karina’s most infamous resident is also its most mysterious. The fearsome Midnight Slasher has plagued the poorer sections of Karina for nearly twenty years. Rumored to be a cloaked madman who wishes bloody vengeance upon all who would harm children — and Gabrielle Aderre — the Slasher appears to have committed a rash of murders and senseless crimes in Karina and elsewhere. Where to Stay in Karina Visitors can choose from a wide variety of inns and hostels, with prices for almost any budget; many of the better inns and taverns are associated with their own small vineyards or breweries. The most luxurious and expensive of these is the Silver Wolf (good quality meals, good quality rooms), located not far from the Citadel, with a fine view of the rest of the city. Elsewhere, the Traveler (good quality meals, common quality rooms) is one of the best inns on the east side, while the Platter and Candle (common quality meals, common quality rooms) is probably Karina’s most popular inn. Lower class establishments such as the Crimson Dagger (low quality meals, common quality rooms) and the Wild Boar (low quality meals, low quality rooms) function on the west side of town. Karina (large town): Karina (large town): Conventional, AL N; 3,000 gp Karina (large town): limit; Assets 345,000 gp; Population 2,315; Isolated (human 99%, other 1%). Authority Figures: Mayor Zachary Beauchamps, male human Ari5; Captain Johannes Van Deusen (wall captain, prison warden), male human Ftr3; Commander Anton Regess (Falkovnian leader), male human Ftr5. Important Characters: “Scar” Tabor (leader of thieves’ guild), male Vistani darkling Rog10; “the Engineer” (reclusive clockmaker and mechanist), male human Wiz9; the Midnight Slasher (signature killer), female human Rog4/Avn*4. *See Van Richten’s Arsenal for more information on the avenger prestige class. Curriculo The only other Invidian town worthy of the name lies northeast of Karina, along a great curve of the Musarde. Its docks are nowhere near as extensive as Karina’s, but they are just as busy. Little more than a roadside inn and a single dock at
60 Report Two the time of Bakholis’ demise, it has grown as the town fathers present their young, prosperous community as an economic alternative to the expensive, decaying Karina. Curriculo has steadily grown in importance and prosperity, and numerous new warehouses have been built to house the trade goods unloaded from its docks. The rivalry between Karina and its upstart neighbor grew increasingly bitter during Gabrielle’s inattentive reign, with many accidents blamed on sabotage. Malocchio has repressed the violence, but not the underlying sentiments. Curriculo’s timber walls are in better repair than Karina’s, and Mayor Raduz Sczeçti takes pains to keep them in good condition. Raduz suspects that dark days are coming and so hired his own mercenaries, independent of the Invidian military, to keep order in the town. The core of the town is much like its larger neighbor to the south. Tall buildings crowd together in picturesque chaos, narrow cobbled streets wind in seemingly random directions, and numerous shops offer a wide range of goods. Beyond the central part of town, Curriculo is less claustrophobic, with wider and straighter streets, as well as smaller wood-and-plaster buildings, usually no higher than two floors. A central marketplace provides Curriculo’s inhabitants with a common area for daily interaction, commerce and gossip. Here, produce and grains can be obtained, along with beer and wine, livestock, horses, clothing and leather goods. Where to Stay in Curriculo Curriculo boasts two inns of note: the Lady’s Veil (good quality meals, common quality rooms) and the Plowshare (common quality meals, common quality rooms). Both are small and comfortable, if plain. Non-merchants who stay longer than two or three days are likely to attract suspicion, for the townsfolk are distrustful of strangers and usually imagine the worst. Castle Hunadora Once the center of Gundarakite strength and national unity, this old and decaying fortress has since become the rallying point for the increasingly militant Gundarakite separatists. Once scattered and divided, the Gundarakites rallied under Gabrielle Aderre’s banner and stormed Hunadora in 750 BC, driving out the token Invidian garrison holding it. Since then, Hunadora continues to plague Malocchio, festering like a sore in the north of his nation, defying his mighty army and serving as a constant reminder of the tyrant’s failure to dispose of his detested mother. About 200 Gundarakite rebels actually occupy the place, and the surrounding woods and countryside are dotted with the concealed camps of sympathizers and refugees of all sorts, including select Vistani who have declared common cause with the Gundarakites. The castle sits atop a constructed mound of earth, its dark stone keep surrounded by a square curtain wall and a wide moat filled with dark, stagnant water. Slithering things occasionally ripple the moat’s oily surface. Supposedly these spawn are experiments that escaped from Medraut’s arcane laboratories decades back. Although Gundar allowed the tangled forest of the Crimson Hills to grow right up to the moat’s edge, the rebels have taken pains to clear the trees. They have also reinforced many of its crumbling defenses, but despite having held the castle for more than seven years, the rebels have yet to explore many of Hunadora’s dungeons, sewers and hidden passages. Numerous devious traps and pitfalls remain untriggered throughout the castle, a remnant of its former masters. The rebels disarm these deathtraps as they find them, but more than a few lives have been lost in the process. Gabrielle Aderre resides here and has appropriated the entire keep for her personal use. Since her seduction of the Gundarakite leader Ardonk Szerieza, the Gundarakites have grown more confident about her leadership — or at least have kept their complaints to themselves. Matton’s wolfweres occupy the woods to the north of the castle, and he has given them strict orders not to prey on the Gundarakites or Vistani. Instead, they periodically emerge to raid farms and settlements, carrying off captives and supplies for the army. So far, neither the Gundarakites nor Malocchio suspects the wolfwere force’s existence, but this may change should open warfare break out. Curriculo (small town): Curriculo (small town): Conventional; AL N; 800 gp Curriculo (small town): limit; Assets 45,200 gp; Population 1,135; Isolated (human 99%, other 1%). Authority Figures: Mayor Raduz Sczeçti, human male Com6; Vaslav Credzû (militia commander), human male War6. Important Characters: Bela Ghuitau (merchant’s guild leader), Exp 5; Commander Rubeus Wahrmer (Falkovnian trade colony commander), Ftr6; Shythe the Bonepyre (saboteur/arsonist), Nec3.
61 Invidia Final Thoughts hankfully, my identity was never challenged as I traveled through Invidia, and I was able to observe much without attracting suspicion. I saw great potential for cultural richness and prosperity wasted by a mad ruler whose irrational hatred leads his nation headlong toward disaster. In the two months that I traveled the realm, I never saw the tyrant himself or his infamous mother. I did observe the grim packs of hungry wolves that kept pace with me mile after mile, waiting for a sign of weakness, a single mistake, or a luckless laggard. Naturally, I offered none. Invidia and her neighbors are like those wolves, I mused — ever pacing, ever waiting, ever patient. And should any of its neighbors fall behind or show an instance of weakness, that realm will be awash in blood. As I set out from Karina and hiked up the banks of the Musarde, I suppressed a shudder at the thought of the lonely forests of Verbrek, yet in my heart I was glad to leave this divided, unhappy land behind. Though the passions of Invidia’s people are rich and their commendable qualities many, there is a dark undercurrent of hatred, boiling just beneath the surface of their wild, wooded land. I hope not to be there to see the results when this hatred finally boils over. Bah. Let the witch and the demonspawn have their little wars. Let them taunt the vampire; let them crush the rats and bankers between their jaws. Let these realms drown themselves in blood, so long as this Dukkar remains.
62 Report Three Report Three: Verbrek Wolves which batten upon lambs, lambs consumed by wolves, the strong who immolate the weak, the weak victims of the strong: there you have Nature…. — Marquis de Sade, Justine, ou les Malheurs de la Vertu Report Three: Verbrek
63 Verbrek s I entered the trackless forests of Verbrek, a prick of panic crept into my mind and lingered as I pushed deeper into the wilds. I could not place its source immediately, but after less than a league I caught a flicker of creatures lurking just beyond the foliage along either side. These, I surmised, were the notorious wolves of Verbrek, perhaps even werewolves plotting a most unpleasant demise for me. If they were lycanthropes, I thought it wise to stand my ground and assert my authority. I was not unprepared; my pistols held silver bullets, and I stood ready to unleash a devastating arcane attack if necessary. The wolves drew near, never taking their glacial eyes from mine. They did not growl and bristle, but studied me with guarded hunger. Then, suddenly, they turned and withdrew, as if they had reached some conclusion. I did not take my hand from my pistol until the last of the creatures bounded out of sight. The bestial eyes that had met mine were not those of animals sizing up potential prey. They seemed more akin to the eyes of murderous and sadistic men, bent on proving their strength through cruelty. Landscape he wild, forested land of Verbrek, largely untamed by axe or scythe, sprawls in a low region of the southwestern Core, where the Arden and Musarde Rivers skirt and slice through vast, cyclopean woods. The touch of humanity is nearly absent here. Verbrek has no ancient constructions from a glorious history, no well-worn roads that testify to generations of commerce and conquest. Nothing here suggests that Verbrek has ever or will ever be the dominion of humankind. The woodlands grow heavy with age and malice as one crosses into Verbrek. Sites of breathtaking beauty and natural serenity are scarce. Alternately marshy and stony, the ground turns ankles and renders travel arduous. The dense canopy of trees casts the forest floor in thick shadow; even those folk who travel by day must bring lanterns to light their way. Thick snarls of undergrowth entwine the legs and sketch bloody scratches on exposed flesh. Wildfires are rare here, and dead wood chokes the forests. The best fortune that the traveler can hope for is to stumble upon a narrow deer run of muddy, flattened vegetation. Few outsiders regard Verbrek as possessing any kind of noteworthy geography, often ambiguously referring to the whole region as the “forests of Verbrek.” My initial travels in the realm confirmed this impression. The endless landscape of dense thickets, eerie hollows, and forest bogs quickly grows wearisome and strangely featureless. Even on short journeys, I found myself overcome with a sensation of being utterly lost, as if I were walking in circles. As the natives were quick to point out, however, Verbrek reveals a diverse landscape to those who know the ways of the wilds. Though a single, unbroken forest covers the whole of Verbrek, the rivers that flow through the realm divide the landscape into several distinct regions. At the northeastern edge lies a rugged upland, thrust up against the noxious Borcan Blightwood. Known as the Bleedingbarrow, the region drops away as perilous limestone bluffs overlooking the Musarde and Bonesliver Rivers. The Bleedingbarrow derives its name from the rustcolored mineral streaks that mar the pale bluff faces. Occasionally, river travelers encounter curious petroglyphs carved into the bluffs or paintings of strange hybrid beasts rendered in earthen pigments. Verbrekers rarely venture into the arid evergreen woodlands atop the Bleedingbarrow. Some whisper that the ridge is a haven for other werebeasts that dare not stand against the realm’s werewolves. Verbrek at a Glance Cultural Level: Medieval (7) Ecology: Full Climate/Terrain: Temperate forest, hills and swamp Year of Formation: 730 BC Population: 830, and 1,140 werewolves Races: Humans 97%, half-elves 1%, halfVistani 1%, other 1% Human Ethnic Groups: Verbrekers 98%, other 2% Languages: Mordentish*, Balok, Vaasi, Sithican Religions: The Wolf God*, Hala, Ezra Government: Independent gerontocratic settlements and farms Ruler: None Darklord: Alfred Timothy
64 Report Three South of the Bonesliver River and east of the Musarde valley are the Carrion Downs, a region of rolling hills shrouded in dense forests. The Downs have a reputation for dooming foolish travelers, who often stumble into the region’s treacherous sinkholes. In these steep pits of rotten, slimy leaves, such trapped souls become easy prey for wolves. Dead trees are also ubiquitous here, their ashen, twisted trunks toppling to the ground with no warning. Verbreker legends say that the restless victims of wolf attacks haunt the Downs, blighting the forest out of hatred for nature and all her creatures. Northern Verbrek rises to a gentle summit at the Winterfang Crests, an upland area where the Quivermoon and Rarung rivers arise as artesian springs. Here, mossy boughs press even closer, roots rise from the ground in gnarled arches, and creeping ivy mantles every surface. The rugged terrain pitches up and down over twisting saddlebacks and misty ravines. Boulders and cobbles of rosy sandstone peer through the undergrowth, often grouped and stacked together in strange arrangements or marked with smudged paw prints. The Winterfangs are the most hostile region in all of Verbrek to the typical humanoid traveler, for here the werewolves watch over their most sacred sites. Those who do not understand the severity of their trespass on such unholy ground do not live to commit the same transgression twice. South of the Winterfangs lies a gentle valley that carves out a shallow scoop in central Verbrek. Known as the Vale of Memory, it is a testament to the unforgiving nature of life in this realm. Natives speak of a time when the forests of the Vale were safe to travel, and a fertile tributary of the Musarde River flowed through the valley. In this era, numerous tiny settlements took root in the Vale. Emboldened by the ease of life here, the Verbrekers began to cut back the forest for their farmsteads. In retribution, the Wolf God that stalks Verbrek unleashed the fury of nature. The waters of the river dried up, packs of ravenous wolves devoured babes in their cradles, and the trees of the forest swallowed hamlets overnight. Today, the Vale of Memory is a misty valley choked with dense forest and fetid pockets of marsh. Evidence of the lost hamlets litters the former riverbanks. I stumbled upon skeletal farmhouses long cloaked in moss and creepers, and glades where countless human bones and corroded tools lay among the ferns. Beyond the southernmost crest that borders the Vale of Memory are the Ghostflame Bottoms, a foul swampland of black mud hidden under the forest canopy. Nestled between the uplands that give rise to the Noisette and Ulvflod rivers, the Bottoms are riddled with gloomy hollows that collect the spring rains. Throughout the remainder of the year, the forest floor remains a treacherous morass of mud and rotting vegetation. The stench of decay is overpowering, and during the summer voracious mosquitoes fill the air. The southern tip of Verbrek ends at the Mourning Ridge, a jagged spine of wooded hills that rises from the Ghostflame Bottoms to the Sithican border. From here, one can see all the way to the summit of the Winterfang Crests to the north and southward into the valley that clutches the Sithican village of Mal-Erek. Perhaps owing to their proximity to eldritch elven magic, the trees here are Dread Possibility: The Brood of the Purple Moon It is often said that evil does not cooperate save in the face of a common, hated enemy. Even then, alliances are tenuous, disintegrating into treachery the moment the mutual foe has been destroyed. Such is the case with the Brood of the Purple Moon, a loose clan of outcast lycanthropes who wage a futile territorial war with Verbrek’s werewolves. Named for the lunar eclipses they regard as particularly auspicious, the Brood lairs in the forest atop the Bleedingbarrow. Drawn from evil lycanthropes that consider temperate, forested lands such as Verbrek their rightful hunting grounds, the members of the Brood share little but an undying hatred for the werewolves. The Brood werebeasts run in small gaggles of their own kind rather than as a united group and constantly maneuver for dominance. The numbers of the Brood shift, as members join up, die in battle, or lose interest in the conflict. No one creature has been able to stand as a leader for the disparate Brood, though Broderic the Bonecracker (male caliban werebear Bbn7, CE), has emerged as a bully of chilling ambition. Although the Brood would be a powerful ally against the werewolves, heroes should question whether Verbrek would be better off terrorized by a single race of werebeasts or half a dozen warring tribes.
65 Verbrek soaring and massive, while florid toadstools and lichens encrust their bark. The name of the region stems from the ghostly wailing that echoes over the hills at night. Some Verbrekers believe that this is the sound of those claimed by lycanthropy, lamenting their lost humanity in moments of lucidity. Others whisper that the elves of Sithicus wander into the Verbrekan wilds when their time in the mortal world ends and that the wailing portends the forest claiming their souls. Rivers serve as the primary conduits linking the people of Verbrek with the outside world. The realm’s scattered hamlets are always built along riverbanks, a stone’s throw up a nearby ridge to stave off flooding. The only significant infrastructure in Verbrek is the string of massive, sturdy docks that the natives have built up and down the rivers. These docks allow the Verbrekers to reach neighboring settlements and farms via their modest river launches without undertaking a treacherous forest journey. They also permit vessels from neighboring realms to moor safely to conduct trade with the natives. Verbrek’s tiny, wretched settlements seem one bitter winter from starvation. Constructed for safety rather than tidiness or aesthetics, a Verbreker hamlet is a desperate, ramshackle place. Muddy paths serve as village streets, while trenches and crude wooden palisades surround the community. These protections also serve to guard the natives’ small livestock pens from wolves, though the predators exhibit remarkable cunning in circumventing them. Folk have learned to rely on the resources of the forest for their building materials. Anything that cannot be constructed with timber, cobbles, or clay is probably not worth constructing. The locals utilize imported iron, glass, and hewn stone only when absolutely essential. Verbrekers build square, squat structures from roughly cut logs fitted together without nails and sealed with pitch. The thatched, gabled rooftops are green with moss, while chimneys of smooth river stones puff smoke into the misty air. Both within and without, buildings are bereft of ornamentation or creature comforts. Single room structures are the norm. Luxuries such as wood stoves and window glass are rare. Verbrek’s climate follows a temperate pattern, characterized by hot, humid summers and bitter winters. Violent thunderstorms descend without fail the first week of May each year to bring torren-
66 Report Three tial rains. Flash floods transform the ravines that wind through the hollows into roaring streams. Just as quickly as they appear, the rains depart by the second week of June. Flora Verbrek’s forests are a prime example of ancient, virgin woods, untouched by humanity since the dawn of time. Only at the fringes of rivers do the Verbrekers dare to carve back the forest for their own purposes. Some Mordentish naturalists speculate that Verbrek represents that ancient state of Mordent’s open coastal plains and heath before they were cleared for agriculture and pastoral use. The domain’s forests are predominantly broadleaf, though hardier stands of evergreens cling to the rocky ridges and saddlebacks. Alder, ash, hazelnut, sessile oak, rowan, and willow are the primary trees, though one can also find rarer downy birch, crab apple, juniper, wild privet, whitebeam, and yew. Beneath the forest canopy lie an abundance of gorse, wild marigold, saxifrage, sedges, and ferns in every possible shade of green. Lichens and lugworts blanket the tree bark and stones in the darkest thickets. Carnivorous plant life is a constant hazard in the wilds, where the forests seem possessed of an unnatural vitality. Many trespassers have fallen victim to bloodroot, lashweed, quickwood, and stranger things while preoccupied with the threat from lurking werewolves. Countless useful botanicals grow amid such lush surroundings, and most Verbrekers have at least a practical knowledge of herbalism. One plant in particular prompts even outsiders to brave the forests. The moonflower boasts a delicate silver blossom that opens only under the light of a full moon. Endemic to the Winterfang Crests, patches of the flower spring up near stone cairns and other suspected werewolf holy sites. Essential oils from the blossoms are reputed to calm a bestial mind, and many souls afflicted with lycanthropy seek the flower in a desperate attempt to control the change. Fauna Verbrek’s vast forests shelter wild boars, fallow deer, roe deer, elk, river otters, weasels, and smaller animals such as dormice, hares, moles, red squirrels, and voles. Significant predators include badgers, brown bears, wild cats, red foxes and the gray wolves for which Verbrek is notorious. Goblin scavengers are notably absent, said to shun Verbrek for fear of these wolves. Following an encounter with Verbrekan wolves, even an outsider must confess to the unnatural size, strength, and cunning that characterizes the beasts — provided, of course, that he lives through said encounter. Though realms such as Barovia and Kartakass boast equally robust wolf populations, Verbrek stands apart due to the extraordinarily vicious, tenacious temperament of its native man-eaters. Wolves relentlessly shadow travelers in the Verbrekan wilderness, waiting for their prey to let their guard down or for a straggler to fall behind the group. Verbrekers fear and loathe wolves. They attribute demonic qualities to the beasts, regarding them as evil to their very core. Wolves slaughter livestock, snatch babes from their mothers’ breasts, and drag the old and the infirm screaming into the night. Even more significantly in the minds of the Verbrekers, however, any wolf that they encounter could be a werewolf in its natural guise. Unlike their mundane kin, lycanthropes attack armed adults without fear and are known to capture their victims for ritual hunts and sacrifices. Of course, most feared of all, werewolves carry the dread disease that allows them to swell their ranks. Though werewolves are foremost on the minds of natives and outsiders alike, other unnatural creatures stalk the wilds. The forest is home to enormous forms of mundane animals, including badgers, bats, bears, boars, weasels and wolves. Thankfully, such giants are usually solitary, though as a rule they are voracious and unafraid of humans. Some travelers have reported gigantic vermin, such as ants, stag beetles, spiders, and wasps. Moonflowers A single moonflower plant produces 1d4 blossoms each lunar cycle from spring to fall. An afflicted lycanthrope that consumes a moonflower blossom receives a +10 circumstance bonus to her Control Shape checks for 8 hours. Moonflower blossoms can be pressed and dried once picked, potentially preserving their benefits for years if properly stored, but live plants have a 50% chance of withering if transplanted to soil beyond the shadows of the Wolf God’s standing stones.
67 Verbrek Encounters with incorporeal undead are not unusual. Perhaps this is because so many foolish souls meet their end in the forests, far from their homes. One also finds other “phenotypes” of lycanthropes here (to borrow an awkward term from van Richten), though they remain rare. Notably, wererats have never been sighted within Verbrek. The natives believe that the werewolves despise the creatures and ruthlessly hunt down those that enter their territory. to share their folktales. They warmed to an audience quickly, as if keen to share the truth of things as their grandparents had told them. According to legend, the tale of Verbrek begins ages ago with the birth of the Wolf God, an entity that sprang fully formed from the Mists themselves. My patron may ponder certain similarities between the Verbrekers’ Wolf God and the Kartakans’ Grandfather Wolf, but rest assured the Verbrekers view their primal god with none of the whimsy of their foppish counterparts. The Wolf God’s coming was no gentle dawn, for it tore itself from the womb of the Mists — bloody, ravenous, and howling at the agony of life. Some Verbrekers say that the Wolf God arose out of necessity, a raging counterpoint to the cold enigma of the Mists. While the Mists react, the Wolf God acts. While the Mists watch and wait, the Wolf God hunts and devours. The Wolf God wandered the Mists for untold ages, slaking his hunger on weaker creatures that crossed its path. None of the faceless spirits roaming the Mists dared to challenge the god-beast, for they saw that he was a herald for all the terrors of the flesh. Eventually, the Wolf God grew weary in his solitude. Like all wolves, he longed for a pack. Remembering his own violent birth, he inhaled deeply, taking in the Mists that surrounded him. Within him, the fell vapors mingled with his bone, flesh, blood, and bile. Wracked by pain, he disgorged a brood of children formed in his own image. These became the first wolves. As the Wolf God led his new pack forth, the Mists opened before them, revealing lands covered in vast, ancient forests. In these plentiful lands, rich in prey, the Wolf God taught his children the ways of beasts — how to hunt to sustain themselves and the harsh truth of death, but also how to cheat death by mating and birthing pups. The wolves learned to take pleasure in the squeal of frightened prey and the taste of blood on their tongues. Eventually, the wolves encountered creatures they had never seen before. These seemed weak, for their fangs had fallen off and they were forced to carry them. Unlike all other prey, however, they had the power to change the face of the world as they saw fit. In this, they were not unlike the gods. When these humans began to destroy the forests with axe and flame, the wolves sent their strongest hunters to devour them. The beasts struck a vicious blow, but the humans routed them and pursued them into the forests, their hatred stoked. The Local Animals and Native Horrors Wildlife: Wildlife: Wildlife: CR 1/10 — bat; toad; CR 1/10 CR 1/8 — rat; CR 1/8 CR 1/ 6 — lizard; raven; 6 CR 1/4 — cat; owl; weasel; CR 1/4 CR 1/ 3 — hawk; snake, Tiny viper; 3 CR 1/2 — badger; CR 1/2 eagle; snake, Small viper; CR 1 — CR 1 wolf; snake, Medium viper; CR 2 — boar; CR 2 CR 4 — bear, brown. CR 4 Monsters: Monsters: Any Large or smaller giant or monstrous Monsters: vermin; CR 1/2 — geist*; CR 1/2 CR 1 — fungus, shrieker; CR 1 plant, fearweed*; CR 2 — dire badger; dire bat; dire CR 2 weasel; plant, crawling ivy*; worg; CR 3 — assassin CR 3 vine; dire toad; dire wolf; fungus, violet; lycanthrope, wereboar; lycanthrope, werewolf; plant, bloodroot*; remnant, aquatic*; CR 4 — dire boar; CR 4 lycanthrope, werebat (see Monsters of Faerûn); CR 5 —lycanthrope, loup-garou*; lycanthrope, werebear; plant, lashweed; winter wolf; wraith; CR 6 — shambling mound; tendriculos; will-o’-wisp; CR 7 — dire bear; ghost; 7 legendary wolf; spectre; CR 8 — plant, dread treant*; CR 9 — plant, undead CR 9 treant*; CR 10 — plant, quickwood*. CR 10 History robing the history of Verbrek has proven a challenge, to say the least. While I have encountered unnatural obstacles to my historical research in other realms, never have I been hindered by the stunted culture of the realm in question. Lacking royal or academic libraries, Verbrek is virtually bereft of archival evidence. It offers no noteworthy ruins to wander, no crumbling murals to tell the tale of the land’s past, however fictitious it might be. The handful of books and parchments I discovered were usually the tattered works of neighboring realms. To uncover the origins of Verbrek, I was forced to turn to the oral history of its people, a notoriously unreliable source. Though a touch scornful of prying outsiders, Verbrekers were generally eager
68 Report Three wolves struck again with newfound bloodlust, ravaging human cubs in their dens. Then the forests burned while howls of carnage and sorrow echoed across the hills. The conflict degenerated into a bloody stalemate, as the strength of wolf and human waxed and waned. One night, when the moon was full, a small band of humans slipped unseen into the heart of the wolves’ territory. These men fearlessly approached the den of the Wolf God himself and hailed their enemy to show himself. Alerted to the trespass, countless wolves prepared to descend on the intruders, but the Wolf God emerged from his lair and commanded his children to stand down. Perplexed and amused at such suicidal foolishness, the god bade the humans to speak. To the utter shock of the assembled wolves, the humans responded by sinking to their knees and bowing before the Wolf God. The humans explained that they had seen the strength of the Wolf God and his children, in contrast to the pitiful softness of humanity. Civilization, they claimed, had made humanity weak, and their tenure as masters of the world had lasted too long. The humans offered the Wolf God a monstrous covenant. They and their families would call the god master and would secretly aid the wolves in their war against humanity. They would reveal traps hidden in the forests, sabotage village defenses, and draw their kin away from wolf dens and into ambushes. In return, the humans asked not only to be spared the wrath of the Wolf God, but that he would bless them with his strength. The wolves growled their disapproval of this alliance, but the Wolf God pondered the words of the traitorous humans. He knew that his children would never be able to destroy them utterly. He secretly feared the cleverness of humans, and he suspected it was only a matter of time before they created some terrible machine that would turn the tide against his children. The Wolf God’s gaze fell upon a brown toad hidden among the dead leaves on the forest floor, and a dreadful scheme came to him. He agreed to the deal that the humans offered, and then suddenly seized them in his jaws, tearing a bit of flesh from each man in turn. He then sank his fangs into his own flesh and allowed his steaming blood to wash over the wounds of each man. Through his blood, the traitors discovered the strength of wolves and the power to pass on this boon through their bite. Their flesh became a cloak worn to fool their weaker human kin, for underneath they bore the shape of wolves. The Wolf God commanded his bastard children to honor the moon, who had witnessed their birth, and to fear her sacred metal, silver, as it bore knowledge of their secret. He ordered them to lead his firstborn children in a final battle, to drive the humans from wolf lands and return his children to their place as masters of the wilds. The werewolves did so, laying claim to a vast, untouched forest at the borders of a human kingdom. Though they slaughtered countless men, women, and children, the werewolves could not bring themselves to chase the humans from their lands utterly. Though they dared not admit such things to the Wolf God, many of the werewolves grew to believe that they were favored creatures, greater even than the wolves themselves. They reasoned that since they bore the strengths of both humans and wolves, they were superior to either race. Other werewolves simply grew accustomed to the taste of human flesh and did not wish to chase away their favored prey for good. Regardless, the werewolves allowed a handful of humans to remain in their new homeland, but took pains to keep them in their proper place. The forests that the werewolves claimed they called Rrrv-brehk, which in the primitive language of wolves means “Unwelcome Place.” Uttered by the tongue of a human form, it became Verbrek. The myth of the Wolf God holds a vital clue regarding the seminal event that marks the emergence of Verbrek. The creation of the werewolves and the subsequent subjugation of humankind signals the beginning of Verbrek as it exists today. From this point on, the werewolves rule Verbrek, while humans cower in fear. Even if one rejects this folktale as peasant superstition, one is naturally led to conclude that the seminal event is related to a shift within the culture of werewolves, a shift toward more violent savagery and even deeper hatred toward humanity. If the dread lord of Verbrek is a werewolf — as I have come to suspect — then he was probably the first among his kin to act upon these fanatical beliefs. Given the emphasis placed on the Wolf God in the origin myth, it is likely that the werewolf master of Verbrek views himself as an emissary or avatar of this god-beast. As Low Mordentish is Verbrek’s language, this werewolf, or at least its ancestors, were probably of Mordentish blood. Although tales of a land to the south of Richemulot first surfaced around 708 BC, this
69 Verbrek realm was not known as Verbrek, but “Arkandale.” I discovered a brief description of Arkandale in the Catalogue of the World Entire, a shoddy work commissioned by Camille Boritsi of Borca shortly before her death. It hints at a land not unlike Verbrek, where “wolves that walk like men” stalked along muddy riverbanks and through vast, untouched forests. Meanwhile, Mordentish anchorites first note a realm called “Verbrek” in the early 730’s, observing that wolves attacked any lumberjacks who took axes to its forests. I have not been able to determine whether Arkandale and Verbrek were distinct realms during this period. It may be that the residents of neighboring realms applied differing names to the region, or perhaps they were simply confused. Following the Great Upheaval, however, Arkandale seems to have vanished from memory, and the lands south of Richemulot have since been called Verbrek by natives and outsiders alike. Much to the horror of those who live on the edges of Verbrek’s forests, the werewolf population of the realm has expanded significantly since then. This is evidenced not only by the testimony of Verbrekers themselves, but by the rising number of unusually brazen and cunning wolf attacks beyond Verbrek’s borders. Over the past decade, neighboring realms have spread tales of marauding werewolf packs ravaging their frontiers in search of victims for their unholy rites or simply reveling in bloodshed for its own sake. If the history of Verbrek seems long on speculation, my patron should rest assured that this is by necessity. I can offer no names or dates from the Verbrekan past. The Verbrekers never speak of revolutions or battles, scandals or assassinations. They teach their children grim myths and fables, or anecdotes of devastating famines or blizzards in years past. Apparently, fear is the only truth worth remembering in this land. You seem equally confused, my little scholar. You should know better by now. The most petty, ordinary conflicts — even, say, a son rebelling against his father — can shape these realms of darkness in profound ways.
70 Report Three Populace erbrek is sparsely populated, its humanoid inhabitants numbering less than 2,000 by my estimation. The vast majority of these natives are humans — or appear to be — but one also finds a growing population of half-breeds and outcasts such as half-elves, half-Vistani, and even calibans. These folk tend to be recent arrivals, often refugees and fugitives who feel safer in the wild forests than the wider world beyond. Appearance Verbrekers are sturdy, hardened by life on the fringes of civilization. Generally shorter in stature than folk from neighboring lands, they possess a rugged comeliness with lean, athletic builds. Hard labor and meager food ensure that they never grow portly, while frailer children rarely survive to adulthood. They tend toward sharp cheekbones, handsome brows, and full lips. Verbreker skin is fair, ranging from pale and freckled to softly tanned. The harshness of the forest weathers even the young and toughens their hands with calluses. Verbrekers have a reputation for wide, arresting eyes, usually a bold shade of blue or green. Hair color runs from honey blond to rich brown, though auburns are not uncommon. Verbreker hair is naturally straight or slightly wavy, but neither men nor women are bothered with style. They allow their hair to grow wild and unkempt, men cutting it savagely just above the shoulder and women growing it throughout their lives. The result is a snarled and matted mess, often filthy with leaf detritus or even — in the elderly — green with moss. Full mustaches and beards are the norm among men, who consider them symbols of respect toward the wild. The clean-shaven outsider stands out as one who arrogantly challenges nature. Fashion The challenges and threats of wilderness life dictate that Verbreker attire be simple and functional, while allowing for comfortable movement. Men wear snug jerkins over their shirts, with trousers and a sash wrapped comfortably about the waist. Women don loose blouses and long skirts, slit up the thigh a touch too far for conservative outsiders. Loose clothing is designed for quick removal with a tug at a slipknot or two; in these woods, time spent to unlace a snagged cloak could cost the wearer his throat. Both men and women wear heavy woolen socks and simple shoes of soft leather. The natives exploit the resources that surround them whenever possible, reducing their dependence on outside goods. Rather than slaughter their milk cows, they use buckskin for leather. Dyes are expensive and unnecessary, so fabrics are almost always natural hues of cream, grey, tan, and earthen brown. Former Darklord: Nathan Timothy The truth of Verbrek’s history is tightly entwined with the whims, ambitions and hatreds of the Timothys, a family of natural werewolves originally from Mordent. Modern Verbrek arose from the wanderlust of Nathan Timothy, a shrewd young werewolf. Nathan felt compelled to seek out new lands, convinced he could uncover an egress from the Realm of Dread. In 708 BC, the Dark Powers saw fit to grant Nathan the domain of Arkandale, encompassing lands that are now northern Verbrek. Arkandale was quite similar to modern Verbrek in its landscape and culture, but home to far fewer werewolves. Nathan was aloof and unusually content. He was generally satisfied with life on the River Musarde aboard his paddleboat, the Virago. Nathan’s son Alfred, however, was a creature of profound hatred and bloodlust, who felt his father was too tolerant of humankind. When he betrayed and murdered a generous Vistana in 730 BC, Alfred became darklord of Verbrek, a wilderness of savage werewolves to the south of Arkandale. During the Grand Conjunction in 740 BC, Arkandale and Verbrek merged into a single domain bearing the name of the latter. Nathan was released to wander the rivers of the Core, while Alfred found himself sole master of his newly expanded realm. To this day, Nathan continues to traverse the Core aboard the Virago, posing as a genial and enterprising river captain.
71 Verbrek One exception is the hooded wool cloak ubiquitous among male and female Verbrekers alike. These heavy garments protect the natives from the elements and are the most valued possessions that most Verbrekers own. Dyed dappled green and brown on one side, and white and brown on the other, they are reversible according to the season, camouflaging the wearer when he moves through the forest. Every Verbreker also carries a hand hatchet and hunting knife at all times, strapping them on the moment they arise in the morning. Though these items provide some minimal protection against predators, they actually serve a far more practical purpose: Verbrekers detest being caught without the proper tool. Language Verbrekers speak their own curious dialect of Low Mordentish. Its characteristics include protracted vowels and the hissing of air over the teeth. Few other tongues are spoken widely; even High Mordentish sounds stilted and unfamiliar on Verbreker tongues. The trickle of desperate outsiders who seek refuge here, however, ensures that there is always an unexpected voice or two to be found. Low Mordentish Primer English Low Mordentish forest weald river éa moon móna hunter hunta wolf ulph werewolf worulph dangerous, unwise bealu fool, outsider, civilized person ceasterbuend Lifestyle & Education To say that Verbrekers “make a living” at anything is misleading. Verbrekers concern themselves first and foremost with survival. They
72 Report Three steadfastly pursue any task that aids them in their ceaseless struggle against nature. Some Verbrekers lead lives not unlike other peasants of the Core, farming and herding along the riverbanks. These folk usually raise a single crop or stock, selling whatever surplus they produce to the river merchants. Having bound themselves so tightly to river commerce, such natives nurture close relationships with traders, who return to the same Verbreker farmsteads on a reliable schedule. Other Verbrekers follow a pattern closer to raw subsistence, raising plots of several grains and vegetables for their own needs, perhaps with chickens and a cow or two. The plants and creatures of the wild provide almost everything else they require. Rarer are the Verbrekers who forsake the plow, hunting for game and gathering the fruits, nuts, and roots of the forest. These “wild men” dwell in wretched shelters or grottos deep in the wilderness, or they live an entirely nomadic existence, sleeping high in the trees beyond the reach of the wolves. The harsh realties of daily life in Verbrek forge families with tight bonds. A strong, almost desperate sense of solidarity forms among kin; survival depends on each member of the family contributing to the grueling struggle of everyday life. Many Verbreker children grow up in a single-room cottage in a remote hollow, rarely coming into contact with anyone outside their families. When a young Verbreker man reaches the age of fourteen or so, he leaves his home for a time and sets out alone into the forest in search of a wife. Verbrekers refer to this tradition as Thæt Lang Fær — the Long Walk. Parents do not lightly send their adolescent boys out among the wolves. The Long Walk is a serious affair, and the natives regard it as a test of courage, resolve, and resourcefulness. As he journeys, the youth sings uneasy prayers to the Wolf God, asking him to stay his hunger and allow “his prey” to find a mate, thereby ensuring a plentiful herd. Usually, the youth courts the first lass of similar age he stumbles upon, obtains the blessing of her family, and returns home within a fortnight. Nearly all marriages in Verbrek are arranged for convenience. Rarely, a boy may wander for months or even years, his familiarity with the forest growing and the appeal of settled life waning. Envisioning sentimental romance thriving among people who think of themselves primarily as wolf fodder is difficult. Married couples cling to one another more out of a sense of survival than marital fidelity. Nonetheless, Verbrekers exhibit strong devotion to their spouses, protecting one another fiercely until death. Verbrekan couples have exactly two children, no more, no less, controlling such matters through ancient herbal secrets. There is deeply rooted belief — not entirely unfounded — that the survival of the race depends on this standard. With a smaller population come deformities and vulnerability to catastrophe. Greater numbers risk culling by the fangs of the realm’s werewolves; I collected numerous anecdotes of the beasts carrying off the third child born into a family. Such anecdotes promote the superstition that a third child is always cursed with lycanthropy and that such attacks merely restore the child to its rightful kin. Parents teach their children the fundamentals of forest survival at an early age. Before they learn to read or write — if they learn at all — youngsters learn to shoot a bow, snare a rabbit, gather edible plants, navigate a river raft, and build a snow shelter. This emphasis on practical skills dominates Verbreker culture. The natives see little need for book learning and other “civilized” pursuits. They have nothing but contempt for the “softbellied” privileged folk who waste their lives in pursuit of science, politics, or philosophy. Though fortunate Verbrekers keep draft horses as beasts of burden, these creatures are unfeasible as mounts in the dense forests. Travel on foot is preferred. Racing home before packs of pursuing wolves has bred stamina and fleetness into the Verbrekers’ blood. Light on their feet, Verbrekers dash over rugged terrain with a deftness to make an elf envious. Natives also boast skill in navigating the modest river launches that carry them up and down the realm’s waterways. They pilot these craft with simple pole oars, slipping between treacherous eddies, gravel bars, and logjams. Verbrekers subsist on simple fare, preparing meals from the forest’s bounty. Though some supplement this with grains and vegetables from gardens, the wilds provide the bulk of their sustenance. There are no signature Verbreker recipes, per se. The natives eat whatever is at hand, prepared in the simplest manner possible. Game such as venison, rabbit, squirrel, and quail are staples. Natives roast meat without spices over an open flame, consuming it on the bone, then preserve uneaten portions as a jerky, mixing it with sweet berries. River trout and salmon are prominent food sources,
73 Verbrek frequently salted and dried for the harsh winters. Stewed cabbage and potatoes from tiny gardens accompany edible grasses, roots, mushrooms, nuts, and fruits from the forest. Despite their normally simple tastes, Verbrekers are fond of fine beer, brewing with careful attention to flavor and body. Their golden lagers carry the distinct bitterness of local hops and an array of subtle flavors derived from forest wildflowers. Verbrekers are at home in the wilderness. The untamed forest is a familiar landscape to them. Nature and humankind coexist under an uneasy truce, and humanity is clearly the weaker faction, surviving through deference and passivity. Verbrekers readily admit to a healthy respect for the natural world, but their respect is tempered with fear. They witness the savagery of nature every day and feel its hot, cruel breath on their necks at night. They accept that they are doomed to be food for either wolves or worms, yet they harbor a passionate pride for their miserable way of life. They believe that to live close to the rhythms of the forest is to live honestly, nobly, and with honor — traits they see in short supply in the world beyond. Verbrekers live according to the patterns they see around them. They note that all their survival strategies came from watching the creatures of the forest and mimicking or adapting their tricks. Following the lead of all prey creatures, Verbrekers prefer to flee or work around difficulties rather than confront them. Observation, patience, and wisdom are their virtues. Verbrekers say outsiders who speak of “instinct” are missing the tapestry of sights, sounds, and smells that creatures absorb and act upon. Accordingly, Verbrekers are as edgy as any forest deer, vigilant for the slightest changes in their surroundings. Concerned with the fundamentals of survival, they devote little time to life’s pleasures. They seize upon moments of delight and amusement, usually in the slow hours of the night. Folk whittle tiny woodcarvings or play mumblety-peg when they have free moments. They find music in the sound of clapping hands and the buzz of flutes crafted from green shoots. Storytelling is the only enduring tradition, with the elderly as keepers of the folktales. Grandparents retell their favorite stories as the children in a household drift asleep to the sound of wolf howls. The only characters these legends feature are wolves, men, and beasts that merely walk like men. The eternally malicious wolves speak in such legends, yet the humans outwit them with amusing frequency. Charming. I would wager that the werewolf masters of this wretched land tell similar legends, albeit featuring greedy, gibbering apes wielding axe and flame, and the noble beasts that challenge them. Verbrekers are generally rough and churlish in their demeanor, especially with genteel outsiders. Though my attire, speech, and manner did not endear me to the locals, most recognized that a foreigner who had obviously been traveling alone through the Verbrekan wilds for weeks was not to be underestimated. Complete strangers often mocked and browbeat me at our first encounter, advising me to hasten my own death by offering myself to the wolves. This, I discovered, is as close as Verbrekers come to complimenting outsiders. To those they judge as lackwits, they cheerfully offer fabricated advice on wilderness survival — advice that is likely to weed the hapless soul out of the herd, so to speak. Attitudes Toward Magic Verbrekers respect and fear the might of spellcasters, despite exhibiting poor understanding of the arcane arts. Some Verbrekers go their whole lives without even meeting a spellcaster. To the natives, magic is merely another strategy for staying ahead of the natural world, and like any strategy it has its advantages and drawbacks. The respect Verbrekers show spellcasters correlates to the nature of their magic. They treat sorcerers with reverence, believing their magic primordial and untainted by human meddling. Druids and rangers draw their power from nature itself and deserve awe and respect. Bards, clerics, paladins, and wizards are cast in a more suspicious light. To Verbrekers, studied magics are little different from science, philosophy, or any other useless discipline from the civilized world. Religion Verbrekers dwell in a twilight world of fear and scrabbling desperation, a world the prominent churches of the Core are generally unable to illuminate. No cathedrals or temples adorn this realm; shrines in the homes of the faithful are the grandest places of worship. Most Verbrekers have little time
74 Report Three for faith, and they see few answers in the prayers and posturing of clergy. Under the crown of the ancient forests, the needs of the soul are ancillary to those of the body. Those Verbrekers who do turn to faith are usually seeking assurances in their daily lives rather than spiritual comfort. They do not want succor. They want a prolonged growing season, true aim with their hunting bows, and swiftness and luck when wolves are at their heels. Ezra: Even the treacherous forests of Verbrek cannot bar the Church of Ezra, and today one finds a handful of Verbrekers who have accepted the grace of the Guardian. These rare souls follow not the teachings of the Mordentish See, but the Home Faith of Borca. I suspect the Mordentish doctrine of absolution and salvation for the wicked (including the legions of the night) is a touch too naïve for Verbrekers. Stoic guardianship and mercy for the wounded are easier commandments to swallow when howls fill the dark of night. Hala: Most religious Verbrekers count themselves among the faithful of Hala. The goddess’ message of harmony and wisdom appeals to the Verbreker sensibility, even if her mystical doctrine is sometimes lost on them. The Church of Hala is said to have arrived in Verbrek through a courageous warlock from Mordent, who came not to proselytize, but to protect the natives from the werewolf scourge. This warlock is thought to be responsible for the cossetung carr scattered throughout the Verbrekan forests. These tiny cairns, hidden among the ferns and bearing the symbol of the goddess, are rumored to conceal hunters from voracious predators when blessed with a kiss. The Wolf God: Despite the fact that the Wolf God is the most widely worshipped entity in Verbrek, few Verbrekers can speak with authority on the fundamentals of his faith. The Wolf God is the unholy patron of the werewolves, worshipped by no sane humanoid. Though he is a central figure in Verbreker myths, the Wolf God’s true followers are lycanthropes and a handful of deranged human cultists. He represents everything that the Verbrekers hate and fear about nature. They hold him in awe only insomuch as they live in terror of his children. This is not to say that the Verbrekers do not acknowledge the power of the Wolf God. They never speak his name aloud in Low Mordentish — Mæstealdulph — and take pains to avoid his wrath. No Verbreker would ever construct a shrine to the Wolf God or mark a possession with his holy symbol. They are not, however, above whispering prayers to the Enemy of Man in moments of fear. They flatter the Wolf God by extolling his strength and ferocity, beseeching him to show mercy to prey that is beneath his notice. They craft tiny effigies of forest creatures with twisted twigs, leaving them in the woods as sacrifices. Superstitious hunters offer the first animal they kill each autumn to the Wolf God, seeking to satiate him. Mothers swaddle their infants in cloth saturated with polecat musk, believing that it conceals their scent from the Wolf God as he roams the forests at night. Once in a great while, Verbrekers whisper tentatively of humans who stand defiantly against the Wolf God and his children. Most Verbrekers chafe at the thought of these fools stoking the wrath of the werewolves. Members of the Woodcutter’s Axe, as they have been dubbed, believe the Wolf God hates humans because he fears them and covets the fruits of civilization. Members refuse to offer prayers or sacrifices to the Wolf God even out of fear. They seek to break the stranglehold of the werewolves in Verbrek and ultimately to topple the Wolf God himself. How they aim to accomplish this is unknown, as the Axe keeps close to the shadows and covers its tracks diligently, admittedly out of necessity. If I encountered a member of the Woodcutter’s Axe during my travels in Verbrek, I was unaware of it at the time. Yet one old Verbreker woman assured me in low tones that there are prophecies in the oldest legends, legends told only on nights of the new moon. These speak of a third born child who will one day slay the Wolf God and drive the werewolves from the forests forever. Sadly, there exist aberrant individuals in every culture, and in Verbrek rumors persist of men who revere the Wolf God as master. These folk are solitary madmen rather than a cohesive cult or conspiracy, yet their sheer lunacy haunts the Verbreker consciousness, as exemplified in the myth of the Wolf God. It may be reverence for power, craven sycophancy, twisted attraction, or even grim fatalism that drives the rare Verbreker to betray his entire race. The realm’s werewolves supposedly claim as their own any humanoid who exalts the Wolf God; such zealots likely view lycanthropy as an honor and a divine blessing. Personally, I suspect that most of these madmen are more likely to supplicate themselves right into the werewolves’ gullets.
75 Verbrek The Wolf God Revisited This section expands upon the information presented in the Ravenloft Player’s Handbook. The Wolf God Symbol: A snarling wolf’s head or a single, bloody paw print. Alignment: Chaotic evil. Portfolio: Predators, the wilderness, hunting, savagery, blood, the moon, wolves, werewolves. Domains: Animal, Chaos, Slaughter (see Attached Notes), Strength, Trickery. Favored Weapon: Natural weapons. Nearly all of the Wolf God’s worshippers are werewolves, and only werewolves may become divine spellcasters in his clergy. The natural werewolves of Verbrek are the Wolf God’s most devoted followers, but scattered clans of lycanthropes throughout the southwestern Core also worship him. Those humanoid Verbrekers who choose to throw their lot in with the werewolves and their malicious deity are rare in the extreme. Elder priests among the Verbreker werewolves select only an honored few to join their ranks. Since they act as emissaries to the endlessly ravenous Wolf God, priests must follow strict taboos, lest their deity devour them. They must not be tainted with the scent of prey creatures, and any wounds on their bodies must be concealed at all times. The Wolf God has no holy text or orthodoxy; priests pass on the traditions of the faith to their successors through vicious, gruesome ordeals. Clerics of the Wolf God pray for their spells at sunset, when twilight shadows provide concealment to predators. Their worship bears little resemblance to the hymns and sermons of civilized faiths. Hunting is itself a sacred act, and the werewolves worship their god simply by following their natural inclinations. Priests engage in strange rites intended to prove their fanaticism and bestow terrifying visions. The Wolf God has a fondness for the sacrifice of powerful humanoids and other werebeasts, whose throats are torn out and bled to death. The Wolf God has no temples. Devout werewolves construct crude cairns of stone to honor him, adorned with bloody paw prints and the bones of slain victims. The Wolf God demands that his children respect and fear the moon, which is thought to hold power over fate. Rituals are coupled to the waxing and waning of the moon, and priests are always watchful for lunar omens, with eclipses considered particularly dire. The werewolves who serve the Wolf God are usually adepts, although clerics, druids, and even rangers are not unusual. Priests rarely pursue more than one class, as their duties demand vigilance and devotion. Dogma: Hunt. Kill. Feast. You are master of the forest and the nightmare of the civilized world. Do whatever it takes to survive, thrive, and breed. Slay the weak, even among your own kin, for they diminish your race. Revel in the crack of bone and the screams of prey. Follow your instincts. Do not let pity or remorse trouble you. Offer howls to the moon, for she knows your secrets and your fate. Honor wolves as your allies. All other creatures are prey to be eaten or rivals to be slain.
76 Report Three Secret Society: The Woodcutter’s Axe The legends most Verbrekers know comprise only half the tale. Though the children of the Wolf God have taken Verbrek from humanity, humanity is destined to take it back. The Woodcutter’s Axe has faith in the resolve and fortitude of humankind and in ancient tales that portend salvation from the werewolves’ jaws. Solitary avengers have hunted the lycanthropes since Verbrek first emerged from the Mists, but the Woodcutter’s Axe is the first organized plot against the werewolves’ supremacy. The Axe shuns those motivated by vengeance, preferring visionaries who are willing to risk their lives for a Verbrek free from fear. Secrecy is the foremost tenet of the Axe. Its members believe the werewolves’ eyes and ears are everywhere and spend considerable energy rooting out moles. Despite the lack of any formal organization or cell structure, the Woodcutter’s Axe maintains a remarkable network of mutual support among Verbrekers from all walks of life. Members provide safety and shelter to one another without question, recognizing their fellows by crude axe tattoos over the breastbone. Despite its noble rhetoric, the Woodcutter’s Axe is a ruthless gathering of rebels at heart. The prospect of a future free from werewolves justifies nearly anything in the minds of its members. They have burned swaths of forest, poisoned water supplies, and executed those who could not be released from the lycanthropic curse. The Axe lacks a commander, but the spiritual center of the organization is Noella Marshford (human female ex-Pal4/Rgr6, CG), a native Verbreker who entered the priesthood of the Church of Ezra in Borca, only to return to her homeland to liberate it from the werewolf menace. The Verbreker Hero Races: Most Verbrekers are humans, though the domain is home to a smattering of calibans, half-elves, and half-Vistani. Verbrekers generally accept these outcasts, provided they have dwelled among the native humans for some time. The Verbrekers reserve their suspicion for civilized outsiders, regardless of their race. Classes: Druids, fighters, rangers, and sorcerers are the most common classes in Verbrek. Druids and rangers act as emissaries between nature and humankind, promoting respect and caution toward the wilds. Fighters follow a less spiritual path, perfecting tactics that provide an edge in the forest landscape. Sorcerers are relatively common here, and many Verbrekers believe that the forests themselves touch these souls with eldritch power. Barbarians are uncommon, but not unheard of among the werewolves and toughened wanderers who dwell deep in the forests. Other classes are curiosities or outlanders far from civilization. Recommended Skills: Balance, Climb, Craft (bowmaking, carpentry, leatherworking), Heal, Hide, Jump, Knowledge (nature, shapechanger lore), Listen, Move Silently, Profession (boater, brewer, farmer, fisher, guide, herbalist, lumberjack, tanner), Sense Motive, Spot, Survival, Swim. Recommended Feats: Alertness, Back to the Wall, Dodge (plus derivatives), Great Fortitude, Jaded, Lunatic, Point Blank Shot (plus derivatives), Run, Skill Focus (Knowledge [nature], Survival), Sworn Enemy*, Track, Warding Gesture* Weapon Focus (battleaxe, dagger, handaxe, longbow, longsword, quarterstaff, shortspear, throwing axe). *See Van Richten’s Arsenal Volume I Verbreker Male Names: Agnan, Cadoc, Drenig, Ehoarn, Gilduin, Herveig, Jaoven, Kerrian, Maugan, Privael, Riwallan, Sklaer, Teyrn, Vonig, Youenn. Verbreker Female Names: Aven, Biganna, Enora, Flamenn, Goulvena, Joela, Kavanenn, Lennig, Maiwenn, Nevena, Paola, Rivanon, Sisilia, Vouga, Yuveot.
77 Verbrek Werewolves In Verbrek, the societies of humans and wolves blend at the edges, so establishing the exact proportion of werewolves within Verbrek’s total population is difficult at best. By some accounts, werewolves outnumber humans here by as much as three to one. The renowned werewolf slayer Patrick Conner advised me that the natives have exaggerated this figure out of fear. Nonetheless, he estimates that the beasts number well over a thousand. All signs suggest that their population is burgeoning. I was fortunate to encounter Conner and his companion-in-arms Lynnet Tharel as I traveled through the Vale of Memory, and they provided me with fundamental details on werewolf society. Unfortunately, the pair obstinately refused to serve as guides through the Winterfang Crests. I gathered other facts from the anecdotes of numerous Verbreker commoners, as well as my own encounters with the werewolves, which were fleeting but vivid. The natural werewolves of Verbrek generally follow one of two lifestyles, although the distinction between the two is not always easy to draw. The creatures I shall term deceivers spend most of their lives in human form, masquerading as Verbreker commoners. These creatures dwell in river hamlets, leading seemingly normal lives as farmers, fishermen, or trappers. When night falls, however, they shed their peasant garments and human guise, loping through the forest in search of prey. They seem to thrive on this trickery, often maintaining the ruse for years or decades for their own perverse amusement. Deceivers tend to occur as lone wolves, if my patron will excuse the pun, or tight family groups. Yet Verbrekers often whisper fearfully of whole settlements of deceiver werewolves. Should an unlucky traveler stumble upon such a hamlet, he rarely leaves alive the next morning. Not all werewolves are content to live as humans, however. Those who reject this deception I call primitives, for they choose to exist as backward aboriginals. Dwelling in the wildest regions of the forests, they emerge to stage bloodthirsty raids on farmsteads. Primitives employ their shapeshifting ability only as an evasion or confusion tactic. They prefer their hybrid form, clothing themselves in little but savage regalia such as bones, feathers, and designs painted onto their hides with river mud or dried blood. Primitives worship the Wolf God openly, and their priests command terrifying diWolves at the Door The natural werewolves of Verbrek generally live in small family groups called packs, comprised of a mated pair of werewolves, their offspring, and perhaps a kinsman who is too young or old to lead his own pack. The pack’s survival rests on the strongest male, called the alpha. Packs maintain close ties with kin packs, with which they form a clan. Werewolves mate only with fellow clan members. In some clans, they earn the right to mate only after “blooded” by taking a human life. The status of the clan determines the hunting rights of affiliated packs. Accordingly, they fiercely defend the honor and territory of their clans, and any meeting between rival clans is likely to result in a bloody challenge between alphas. Clan names are derived from wolf-speak and are simplistic and fearsome — Sharptooth, Snowstalker, and Blackslayer Clans are typical examples. Clans follow one of three paths in their endless struggle for power. Clans that pursue similar strategies are not allied with one another by any means and tend to be bitter rivals. Clans living close to humanity are termed Sheepskinners. Sheepskinners are cunning and arrogant, delighting in trickery and violence in equal measure. They reason that shapeshifting is a blessing from the Wolf God, allowing them to hunt and observe humans with ease. Some Sheepskinner clans regularly venture outside Verbrek to forge alliances with other creatures or sample the pleasures of civilization. Other clans deride Sheepskinners as lazy, domesticated mongrels, hopelessly consumed with the ways of humans. Stonebreakers are savages and ruthless advocates of werewolf supremacy. Stonebreaker clans believe they must forge their own society, free from the corrupting weakness of humanity. They raze human settlements and refuse to plunder, crafting their own crude tools and weapons from bone, wood, sinew, and stone. Stonebreakers are zealous followers of the Wolf God, believing that their race will one day rule the world. Other clans snicker at the ridiculous sight of Stonebreakers in feathers and war paint, dancing and chanting before a bonfire. Ghosthowlers are the most reclusive and vicious of all. Ghosthowler clans spend most of their lives in wolf form, running alongside wolves as their equals. They believe that the other clans have forgotten their roots and lurk in the wildest regions of the domain, rarely showing themselves to the Verbrekers. Ghosthowlers know that humans fear the unknown and contend that the other clans often forget this, foolishly exposing themselves to humans. They would rather abandon a woodsman’s maimed corpse in the forest for others to find than engage in raids and mass murder. Other clans regard howlers as dullards and backward beasts, little better than mundane wolves.
78 Report Three vine magic during hunts and raids. When Verbrekers speak of ghastly werewolf rites and blood sacrifices deep in the forest, they are referring to primitives. I suspect the crude stone monuments and strange glyphs in tree bark found throughout the realm are the handiwork of such. Witnesses have reported unmistakable hostility between these two groups, but such conflicts seem territorial in nature. Practically speaking, human prey is limited in Verbrek, and werewolves compete ruthlessly for it. Patrick Conner described a revealing encounter, wherein he observed a raiding party of primitives who surrounded a solitary cottage to slaughter those within. A woodsman emerged from the hovel and began arguing venomously with the lycanthropes in the wolf-tongue. Much to the chagrin of the primitives, the woodsman was also a werewolf, a deceiver enraged that the primitives had encroached on his hunting territory. Despite this rift, common threads run through the entire werewolf population. All acknowledge the Wolf God as creator and patron. All are ruthless predators, unable or unwilling to rise above their feral urges. To say that they have their own values, however monstrous, is erroneous. They value only survival, understand only strength and fear, and take pleasure only from their carnal pursuits. While some exhibit remarkable cleverness and charisma, even the most elaborate werewolf scheme is limited in its aims. Werewolves rarely undertake anything that does not contribute to the survival and prosperity of their race or to their personal amusement. Even acts of malicious cruelty ultimately serve to terrorize the humanoid populace, break its spirit and ensure its submission. The Realm erbrek has no centralized authority or government. The Vebrekers recognize no monarch as master, nor do they appoint councilors to administer matters of state. In truth, there is no “state” to speak of in Verbrek. The Verbrekers live without the paternal watchfulness of a government; they have no army, no laws, and no courts. They are quite literally on their own. The sheer wildness of the realm’s landscape proves a hindrance to any authority that sought to assert its power throughout the land. The fundamental actions of government, such as taxation and the raising of an army, are unfeasible when even the most primitive infrastructure is lacking. Kings cannot exercise their authority without roads on which to move soldiers and bureaucrats (it goes without saying that Falkovnian attempts to establish enclaves along the Musarde have ended poorly). The character of the Verbrekers may be a more significant hindrance than the realm itself, however. The natives do not seem the type to suffer the stifling hand of law and order. The presence of the merciless wilderness, so close to their doors, has lent a savagery to the Verbreker outlook. Just as any attempt to tame the wilds can only result in misery and death, the Verbrekers believe that any attempt to enforce laws and control folk is foolhardy and counterproductive. Verbrekers see the natural state of humanity as scattered thinly through the wild, living together in families or tiny communities. Each man is responsible only to himself and his kin. His survival depends on his own resourcefulness and fortitude alone. Catastrophic changes would accompany the “civilizing” of Verbrek: slavery, plague, famine, fanaticism, oppression, and war. Such changes would be contrary to nature and would likely drive Verbrek’s werewolf masters to further acts of carnage and cruelty. Government Each settlement and farmstead in Verbrek is a state unto itself. They answer to no one and have no one to turn to in times of hardship. Hamlets with more than five or six families usually organize a council of elders, or gemot, to resolve matters that affect the whole settlement. The eldest male from each household sits on the gemot, which assembles whenever there are pressing concerns to discuss. There are no formal rules governing how the gemot conducts itself. The gemot may meet spontaneously, as discussion turns to serious local matters during a neighborly gathering. Elders take turns speaking, with each man offering his thoughts. The gemot attempts to reach a consensus when possible, but matters that cannot be resolved are put to a simple majority vote. The elders do not conceal their proceedings from others; even women and outsiders may bring their concerns to the table. Verbreker hamlets have no laws. The gemot resolves any disputes between neighbors and pronounces punishments when necessary. This is a rare occurrence, as Verbrekers have little time for troublemaking. With every household teetering on the edge of survival, jealousy and resentment
79 Verbrek find no room to find root. Verbrekers see peace and unity as the essential feature that distinguishes them from beasts. Why waste energy on bloody struggles for resources and power, when simple respect and decency contribute to the survival of everyone? Such a naïve sentiment functions well here, even if it is folly in the world beyond. There is no need for law enforcement, but natives require protection from natural predators, marauding werewolves, and hostile outsiders. Verbrekers tutor all male children in wrestling, boxing, archery, and swordplay. Hunting sharpens their skills, and all youths are seasoned warriors by the time they enter manhood. Every male Verbreker defends his home at need. Hamlets have no standing militias, but fathers encourage their oldest sons — and occasionally their daughters as well — to organize the settlement’s defenses. It is these bold youths, called hleo, who construct crude fortifications and pore over evacuation plans. The hleo are the first defenders rampaging wolves and lycanthropes encounter should they assault a Verbreker hamlet. them. This is fortunate, for though its native folk would never admit as much, Verbrek’s fragile society would almost certainly wither away without the commerce flowing along the Musarde and Arden rivers. The Verbrekers wouldn’t starve without trade. Natives could survive on the bounty of the forest, but without steel, salt, horses, and wheat, Verbrek would revert to a primitive state of savage clans and beast cults. The soil of Verbrek’s forests is rich and black, the realm’s climate excellent for growing crops. When the gnarled undergrowth is cleared away, an array of grains and vegetables can flourish wherever rays of sunlight break through the canopy. Though wheat grows stunted on Verbrekan soil, oats, barely, and hops thrive. Massive ginger-colored local potatoes prosper in the damp earth along with cabbages, leeks, and parsnips. Mild green peppers, brought to the southwestern Core from a distant realm, also grow well. Most settled Verbrekers raise cattle and sheep for their own needs, but the lack of extensive grazing lands precludes broad commercial husbandry. Nonetheless, some natives have adopted fine cheesemaking techniques from Richemulot, enhancing the curd with forest lichens and wildflower pollens. Hogs and chickens both fare well in crowded pens, growing fat on fodder mixed with native nuts and seeds. Domestic plants and animals provide a supplement to the abundant foods and resources the forest already holds. The natives gather a staggering array of plants from the wilderness: wild cherries, acorns, hazelnuts, juniper berries, fern fiddleheads, and a plethora of mushrooms. Many Verbrekers are skilled herbalists, but their expertise tends to be limited to simple curatives and poisons. River merchants seek brown trout, salmon, and freshwater oysters from Verbrek. Unfortunately, Verbrekers still fish with modest nets and archaic methods, and cannot keep pace with the demand from beyond their borders. The hunters and trappers of the realm cull a wealth of game and furs from the forest. Nobles in other realms clamor for wolf pelts from Verbrek, attracted to their sinister mystique as much as their warmth. Industrious Verbrekers carve soft river clay from exposed ridges, selling it for use in fine ceramics in the workshops of Invidia and Richemulot. Timber is a sensitive matter in Verbrek. Generally, the natives only believe in felling what they need to construct proper homes for themselves and Law Enforcement A Verbreker defender can be used to represent any native who takes up arms to protect her home and family. Verbreker Hleo: Verbreker Hleo: Human War1; CR 1/2; Medium human- Verbreker Hleo: oid (human); HD 1d8, hp 4; Init +0; Spd 30 ft.; AC 12, touch 10, flat-footed 12; Base Atk +1; Grp +2; Atk +2 melee (1d8+1/19–20, longsword) or +2 melee (1d6+1/ x3, handaxe) or +2 melee (1d4+1/19–20, dagger) or +2 ranged (1d8/x3, longbow); Full Atk +2 melee (1d8+1/ 19–20, longsword) or +2 melee (1d6+1/x3, handaxe) or +2 melee (1d4+1/19–20, dagger) or +2 ranged (1d8/ x3, longbow); AL N; SV Fort +4, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 13, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 8. Skills and Feats: Climb +3, Jump +3, Sense Motive +1, Survival +2, Swim +3; Run, Weapon Focus (longbow). Possessions: Longsword, handaxe, silver dagger, longbow, 20 arrows, leather armor, Verbrekan cloak (+2 circumstance bonus to Hide checks). Economy For all its wildness, Verbrek possesses many valuable resources, and the kingdoms beyond its forests will go to considerable lengths to obtain
80 Report Three to produce essential weapons and tools. They gather dead wood for fuel in their hearths, steadfastly refusing to clear forest merely to civilize the landscape. Rarely, the Verbrekers negotiate the harvesting of a solitary copse when there is a critical need for goods from outside realms. Such harvests have a sinister repute, as the lumberjacks often go missing or fall victim to strange accidents. Merchants who lay claim to timber without any cooperation or consent from the Verbrekers usually suffer a far more gruesome fate at the hands of the werewolves. Verbrekers produce little of value beyond what they coax from their surroundings. One finds few forges or workshops, though a smattering of artisans produce simple goods in their homes to sell to the rivermen. Verbreker folk crafts tend toward simplicity and practicality, ranging from quilts, to dolls, to wooden chests, to (supposedly) protective amulets and talismans — all manner of moderately artistic but unspectacular trinkets. The principle workplace is the local brewhouse, a communal cottage in most hamlets of half a dozen families or more. Here, Verbreker men gather to develop distinctive brews with sour hops, their labors more a social pastime than a commercial endeavor. Verbrekers deal in barter rather than currency, and exchanges between Verbrekers tend to be pragmatic and straightforward. A farmer may exchange several bushels of vegetables for a trapper’s pelts. Verbrekers are shrewder with outsiders, negotiating with the skill of seasoned city shopkeeps. An unspoken perception of mutual dependence exists between the Verbrekers and foreign river merchants, however, and the natives are careful not to antagonize their patrons. Settlers along the riverbanks may occasionally consent to payment in Mordentish, Richemuloise, or Invidian coin, provided that there are forthcoming opportunities to dump the currency on river traders. Diplomacy If one were to ask the ruler of any neighboring realm about their “diplomatic relations” with Verbrek, the response would probably be either laughter or a grim scowl. Without exception, other lands regard Verbrek as a trackless backwater populated by filthy peasants who spend most of their time fleeing from fearless beasts. Verbrekers have a low opinion of the world outside the forests. Civilization, as they see it, is a ruse promoted by nobles smitten with luxury. While few folk outside of Verbrek give the Verbrekers themselves a second thought, the werewolves are always on the minds of those who dwell close to the realm’s borders. Every year, more victims suffer encounters outside Verbrek with marauding primitives, who seem to slaughter and abduct hapless folk at random. Even more troubling, packs of deceivers have been found in villages as far-flung as Karina, Levkarest, and Mordentshire. These creatures may merely be wandering in search of twisted diversions, or they may be conducting reconnaissance and forging ties with other hostile groups. Borca: Situated upstream of Verbrek on the Luna River, Borca reaps scant wealth from trade along the Musarde, while still suffering from werewolf attacks. Nonetheless, Ivan Dilisnya has little interest in expending the realm’s energies on patrols for its southwestern border. For as long as the victims are limited to peasants from the rural fringes, Borca’s owners will likely remain apathetic to the werewolf threat. Invidia: Perhaps more than any other ruler whose lands border Verbrek, Malocchio Aderre has grown annoyed at the presence of the werewolves. Commerce between Verbrek and Invidia is extensive, but has encouraged the movement of werewolves across the border. In 748, Malocchio’s army rooted out an underground community of werewolves in Karina, where they had been staging blood sports with a rogue Falkovnian merchant colony. Determined to ferret out Verbreker werewolves in his demesne, Malocchio has ruthlessly hunted down one pack after another. Being predators, the werewolves are unable to back away from the conflict and respond by venturing into Invidia in even greater numbers. Mordent: The Mordentish fear Verbrekan forests, which skulk beyond the southeastern tip of their homeland, seemingly steeped in shadow and fangs. They nonetheless feel a distant kinship with the Verbrekers, regarding them as unfortunate victims of a hostile landscape. The Verbrekers, however, do not necessarily welcome the paternal pity of the Mordentish. Richemulot: Richemulot profits from trade with the Verbrekers. Many commodities brought downstream find their way to Richemuloise plaza markets. Nonetheless, the lupine threat remains a wildcard. Escalating wolf attacks add to the unrest that already plagues rural western Richemulot. Eventually, the patience of Jacqueline Renier may
81 Verbrek reach the breaking point, and her elite soldiers will push into northern Verbrek in search of werewolf prey. Sithicus: Sithicans have little use for Verbrek, since there are few goods the Verbrekers produce that they cannot obtain themselves. Sithicans consider Verbrekers beneath their notice, while Verbrekers regard Sithicus as the Sunset Lands, where civilizations older than humanity have withdrawn to molder. The elves cautiously patrol their northern border with Verbrek, watchful for werewolf marauders. These forces stand ready to strike should the need arise, but menaces often pass by the time the elven nobles resolve to act. Valachan: The Valachani harbor a lifestyle and an outlook similar to those of the Verbrekers, yet hold its neighbor at arm’s length. The Valachani are wary of the ravaging wolves and fear that more extensive contact might provoke further attacks. Verbrekers see this reluctance as a sign that they have no allies in their battle against nature. Interestingly, the enforcers of Baron von Kharkov, hated though they may be, do a commendable job of butchering any wolves they find wandering the borders. Sites of Interest y route through Verbrek was far more circuitous than those I followed in other realms, as I entered the forests with no notion of what landmarks lay ahead. I relied solely on my own judgment, following the rivers and sparse signs of civilization. On more than one occasion, I wandered for days in the wilds without encountering a single soul. The hamlets scattered across Verbrek are wretched little way stations, and only two deserve note, for very different reasons. Fylfot The hamlet of Fylfot huddles northwest of the Vale of Memory, along the Rarung River. The folk survive by raising vegetables and gathering the bounty of the forest. Fylfot contends with persistent wolf and werewolf attacks. The hamlet’s hleo constructed the mightiest palisades I saw in the whole realm, complete with gates, traps, and primitive siege defenses. Where to Stay in Fylfot Fylfot offers no inns or spare housing of any kind. If one intends to spend the night under a dry roof, one must make arrangements with the owner of that home. I was able to acquire lodging in the hovel of Ivona Miller, Fylfot’s midwife, with the gift of a few rare Borcan herbs. Fylfot (thorp): Fylfot (thorp): Conventional; AL CN; 40 gp limit; Fylfot (thorp): Assets 134 gp; Population 67; Isolated (humans 100%). Authority Figures: Tremeur Hallowmore, male human Ftr2 (hleo watch commander). Important Characters: Ivona Miller, female human Exp3 (elderly midwife and herbalist). Alyssum At the eastern edge of the Ghostflame Bottoms lies Alyssum, a hamlet that has prospered from trade with Karina along the Noisette River. The fur trade in particular is a strong component of village life, and most locals are trappers by trade. This struck me as odd, since when Verbrekers gather together, it is almost always in farming communities. Outwardly, Alyssum resembles any A Town Without Pity Every resident of Alyssum is a Sheepskinner werewolf, arising from three packs of the Whiteye clan, which, in a unusual move for their race, banded together to exploit the brisk Invidian trade along the Noisette. The lycanthropes presented a prosperous, open face to the traders that moved through their hamlet and remained discreet with respect to the wanton murder of strangers. They select only victims who will not be missed. Most Verbreker werewolves regard the Alyssums as freaks, sneering that they have forgotten how to hunt, growing fat like swine living on the slop poured into their troughs. Alyssum (thorp): Alyssum (thorp): Monstrous; AL NE; 40 gp limit; Alyssum (thorp): Assets 124 gp; Population 62; Isolated (werewolves 100%). Authority Figures: Meogon, male human werewolf Rgr3 (prominent Whiteye Clan alpha). Important Characters: Gwennael, female caliban werewolf Brd2 (mistress of the challenge); Catamanus, male human werewolf Adp3 (bonecaster and alchemist
82 Report Three other Verbreker hamlet — that is, plain, grubby, and rough around the edges. The villagers, however, were exceedingly warm and pleasant, which at once raised my suspicions. They seemed too keen to learn who I was, where I had come from, and where I was headed. They offered food and lodging out of the goodness of their hearts, encouraging me to spend the night. Having already dealt with the gruff, pushy, independent Verbrekers for several weeks, the demeanor of Alyssum seemed out of place. Fortunately, three riverboats were docked there, and with foreign merchants and laborers milling nearby, I did not feel quite so vulnerable. Still, tales of werewolf villages were fresh in my mind, and I elected to leave Alyssum and its unsettling civility well before sunset. Duskpeace Lodge Northwest of the Winterfang Crests, a day’s journey from the Valachan border, stands Duskpeace Lodge. I stumbled upon it quite accidentally. The Lodge is a massive stone structure, its construction more befitting a fortress or prison than an estate. Oddly enough, every one of the structure’s heavy steel doors and barred windows possess sturdy locks both within and without. The masters of Duskpeace Lodge, Argent and Celia Whitmoor, proved to be courteous hosts, but the strangeness of their home suggested that not all was as it appeared. The Whitmoors claimed to be recent Mordentish émigrés, having built the Lodge as a sanctuary for lost travelers and outcasts seeking refuge in Verbrek. They hosted at least a dozen guests beside me at the time. All had a haunted desperation about them; most huddled in their quarters as secure as any dungeon captive. The Whitmoors were pleasant but evasive; they served me a surprisingly appetizing meal, but despite their professed generosity would not permit me to spend the night. When I spoke over dinner of the Winterfang Crests and my failure to retain a guide who would venture into the region, a grizzled woodsman by the name of Gwalon offered his services. Though the Whitmoors voiced concern at my undertaking such a journey, I brushed aside their protests and departed at once with my newfound guide. Gwalon confided that he knew the location was the most significant werewolf site in all Verbrek. Even approaching the area was exceedingly dangerous, but he acknowledged my uncommon courage and resolve and consented to take me to this sacred site, which he called only the Circle. Secret Society: The Duskpeace Outcasts In Verbrek, natural werewolves rarely molest those they have already afflicted. Some afflicted werewolves live in awe of the creatures that cursed them and act as willing accomplices to their unholy deeds. Rare souls among the afflicted call for harmony between humans and werewolves, encouraging their natural kin to hunt humans only when hungry and to limit their quarry to the old and the frail. The majority, however, contend with the hunger alone and in secret. When they are far from settlements there is little risk of them harming fellow Verbrekers, and natural werewolves suffer them to live. Argent and Celia Whitmoor are afflicted lycanthropes from the same bloodline, progeny of a “Black Wolf” they could never find. They possess a strong degree of sympathy for those similarly cursed and believe that afflicted lycanthropes can live peacefully if they withdraw from civilization. To that end, Duskpeace Lodge serves as a sort of halfway house for afflicted lycanthropes. Within, fugitives who struggle with their curse find a secure haven to spend their “bad nights.” The sturdy construction of the Lodge ensures that those who wish to remain within do so, while its remoteness ensures that those who wander when the curse takes holds pose no risk to innocents. Some guests apply themselves to the mastery of the beast within, as Argent and Celia have done, often pursuing the moonchild prestige class (see the Attached Notes). Over time, as more werewolves have been drawn to the Lodge, Argent (human afflicted werewolf ex-Pal7/MnC3, LG) and Celia (human afflicted werewolf Ftr4/MnC4, LG) have gained some measure of fame beyond their home. Afflicted lycanthropes throughout Verbrek and surrounding domains have begun to carry word of Duskpeace Lodge and the succor that one can find there. Gradually, a network of support and sympathy for afflicted lycanthropes is growing throughout the southwestern Core.
83 Verbrek The Circle and Final Thoughts Before I turn to my last destination in Verbrek, allow me to conclude my thoughts on the realm as a whole. Verbrek is a hostile wilderness with little to offer an ambitious ruler. Its resources can be obtained from other realms with far less effort and risk. Its sparse populace of coarse commoners is unlikely to bend to the will of any potentate. Its werewolves are numerous, and in their native forests they have a distinct advantage. Conquering Verbrek is not an appealing prospect. Annihilating Verbrek would be equally challenging, requiring a mammoth effort of manpower or magic to clear and burn back the forest to the last tree. The Circle is the subject of much fearful legend among Verbrekers. Though a few natives spat that it is no more than a folktale, many assured me that it is the most holy of werewolf sacred sites. Here, werewolf primitives supposedly conduct blood sacrifices and other gruesome rites under the full moon. The Wolf God himself is whispered to appear to his fearsome followers on rare holy days, towering over the stones that ring the circle. The moon provided ample illumination as Gwalon and I carefully picked our way through the dense forests of the Winterfang Crests. Eventually, my guide wordlessly noted that we were close to our destination, and I took the opportunity to conceal ourselves from the sharp senses of any lycanthropes we might encounter. As we pressed forward, my eyes caught the baleful glow of a bonfire and the silhouettes of loping creatures. Through the trees I at last glimpsed a throng of lupine figures dancing, chanting, and howling amid a ring of dolmens. I stood transfixed, unable to look away from such a sight. An enormous circle of upright stones spread out before me in a forest clearing, each dolmen carved with crude glyphs and spattered with the blood of countless sacrifices. Humanoid bones were scattered everywhere, so thick in some places that I could not see the trampled earth beneath. Among the stones, over 200 werewolves in hybrid form capered like demons. Clad in bone trinkets and savage war paint, they chanted in a growling mishmash of Mordentish and wolf-speak. Some beat relentlessly on hollow logs, filling the
84 Report Three glade with a frantic heartbeat. Others writhed on the ground as though possessed or danced in unsettling patterns. Fresh blood covered their maws, and many bore hideous scars — some recent battle wounds, others apparently the products of ritual scarification. The undead of Necropolis seemed like guttering flames compared to the raw rage and vitality in these creatures. Here was life, in all its hideous, unfeeling, brutal, frenzied majesty. My eyes settled on a werewolf who could only have been the high priest. It was a terrifying creature with dense, silver hair, dressed in elaborate ceremonial garb that marked it as an emissary of the Wolf God. In contrast to its kin, the creature stood like a stony judge, surveying the bloody revelry with an unfeeling gaze. Unfortunately, a sudden shout brought my reverie to an end. To my shock and rage, I discovered that my guide had risen to his feet and was bellowing loudly in Mordentish, “Messenger of the God! I bring you a sacrifice! I bring a man-bitch that dares defile these stones! Her flesh is yours to feast upon!” The beasts suddenly ceased their vile festivities and, as one, turned to glare where I was concealed in shadow. Bloodlust and frenzy glittered in their eyes, and in a heartbeat the entire pack was rushing toward me on all fours, while the high priest urged his faithful on with a hideous howl. Feeling only boundless fury, I lunged toward my traitorous guide. His flesh rippled as the lycanthropic change began, but he would have no chance to claim any glory from my death. If I was doomed, my betrayer would not taste another breath. I unsheathed my pistols, forced both muzzles savagely into his chest, and pulled the triggers. His wolf eyes opened wide as the hot silver ripped his heart asunder. I did not even linger to see him hit the ground, but as I turned to flee, the first werewolf in the onrushing pack struck me like a thunderbolt. It snatched me in crushing jaws, and, turning with its pack mates back toward the Circle, dragged me like a bloody rag doll before the high priest. Stunned, I was only vaguely aware as the creature pinned me beneath its massive paws. It sneered in garbled Low Mordentish, “You trespass, prey. Now you will feed the God.” The assembled werewolves then parted, revealing a gloomy deer trail that ran from the edge of the clearing deep into the forest. “You will run. Then we will chase. If you are strong, maybe you get away. If you are weak, we eat you while you still scream.” Mauled and bewildered, I at last gathered the creature’s meaning. They wished to make a game of my death — and “game” of me. No matter how remote my escape seemed, I could not reject a slim chance to reach safety, or, barring that, at least to die on my feet. Still dazed, I rose and stumbled out of the clearing, brushing aside thorny briars and slipping on damp leaves. Gradually, the surreal reality of my circumstance dawned on me, and I began to run as I have never run in my life. My recollection of my flight remains hazy and disjointed. Even as my chest burned with fire and my limbs pulled me down as if made of lead, the howls and rushing steps at my back drove me on. I ran blindly, heading what I assumed was west toward the Valachani border. Eventually, above the maddening howls, I heard the rush of a swiftly flowing river ahead of me. The trees parted, and I saw the glittering black waters of the Ulvflod before me. For a moment, I allowed myself a glimmer of hope, as the river might offer an egress from this cursed realm. It was not to be. Within sight of the river, the jaws of one of my pursuers closed around my leg, tearing my hamstring and crushing my bones. I fell, the cold, damp carpet of leaves beneath me and the hot fur of a hulking beast above me. My final moments were a fading whirlwind of feral snarls, as the werewolves swarmed over me to feed. Blackness and teeth enfolded me, and pain surrendered to sweet oblivion….
85 Valachan Report Four: Valachan Nothing but those terrible eyes was visible, but in the dreadful tumult of her feelings as the situation disclosed itself to her understanding she somehow knew that the animal was standing on its hinder feet, supporting itself with its paws on the window-ledge. That signified a malign interest — not the mere gratification of an indolent curiosity. The consciousness of the attitude was an added horror, accentuating the menace of those awful eyes, in whose steadfast fire her strength and courage were alike consumed. — Ambrose Bierce, “The Eyes of the Panther” Report Four: Valachan
86 Report Four suspect that my escape from the Circle will come as no surprise to my patron, although the exact method of my doing so remains mysterious to me. I returned to my senses to find myself far from Verbrek, draped over a luxurious woolen rug beside a merrily crackling fire. Disoriented, not understanding how I had escaped from the werewolves, my first action was to check the back of my neck. The skin was unbroken; the fierce pressure had left no trace upon me. My clothes and gear, however, were oddly unsettling. To any standard inspection they were unchanged, yet they felt… unfamiliar. Admittedly, my nebulous unease was based on nothing more than a misplaced stitch here, a missing scuff there, and likely the result of rattled nerves following my inexplicable escape. Only the bracer my patron had given me felt the same. The scent of fresh, hot food reached me from a bowl beside the fire. When I went to the door, I discovered that I was in a private home in Helbenik and there was fresh mud on the door jam. Whoever brought me here had left moments before I awoke, leaving me confused and feeling violated. Although I waited several hours, the householders never returned. I did find a spot of blood on one of the rugs. Later, I established that at least two weeks had passed since my last recollection. Does the key to my mysterious escape belong with you and your magical bracer, patron? Every instinct and scrap of evidence tells me that it does, but I also know you will never willingly reveal the truth to me. Once more, I am forced to play the simpleton while you toy with petty secrets. Such truths are worth discovering on your own, little scholar. All will become clear in time.
87 Valachan Landscape alachan’s most notable feature is the lush evergreen forests that cover almost the entire region. Ancient, massive trees shrouded by cool fog and a thick beard of moss host eerie hoots and growls that echo through the hollows. The chill air breathes heavy with the primeval scent of damp redwoods. Beneath this verdant canopy, the treacherously rugged ground winds in ridges and narrow canyons through the realm, providing shelter for predators, and preventing easy travel. Though temperate, Valachan is exceedingly wet, with frequent, heavy rainfall, which makes the ground near the lips of these canyons exceptionally unstable. Landslides and rock falls are frequent. Tiny thorps and hamlets cluster densely in Valachan, bustling pockets of industry in the eldritch wilderness. Most are only a few miles apart, but broken ground means travel takes far longer than linear distance would suggest. I found the trackless forest almost impossible to navigate; without sun or stars to guide you, the fog quickly becomes disorienting and you walk in circles. Some locals claim the forest spirits deliberately mislead travelers for their own amusement. Local guides are essential for all but those with a faultless sense of direction. One road crosses the country from north to south, linking Mordentshire and Ungrad via Helbenik and Rotwald. The road varies in quality from narrow, unmade tracks to sequoia trunks, split in half and buried longways in the mud to provide a flat, stable surface for wagons. Once across the Valachan border, the road from Mordentshire to Helbenik becomes known as the New Road, so called because it was hastily constructed after the Great Upheaval. Another road, more carefully made but now falling into disrepair, curves slowly east-northeast from Helbenik before stopping abruptly at the Verbrek border. This Old Road linked Helbenik to Hroth until Valachan’s violent relocation during the Great Upheaval. Heading south from Helbenik, the Broken Road stretches past Castle Pantara to Rotwald and then Ungrad. The latter takes its name from its frequent interruptions by rough terrain, prompting hair-raising descents into canyons, rickety bridge crossings and swift river fords. In truth, however, those roads with more inviting names are equally difficult to traverse, and the Broken Road has the advantage of being well-traveled and dotted with small settlements where one can stay the night. Finally, five miles south of Rotwald, the Broken Road spawns the Elf Road, which leads to MalErek. Given the difficult nature of Valachan’s roads, most travelers unsurprisingly use the Arden River. Both Rotwald and Helbenik are built near the Arden’s tributaries. Helbenik is on the violent River of Salmon, which provides an obvious staple for the Helbeniki. Rotwald sits near the more sedate River of Gold, so named for the flecks and small nuggets of gold that appear in the water as it erodes the precious metal deposits below the river bed. The Arden’s other main tributary is the wide, slow Ulvflod (Wolf River), which flows from Verbrek and is closely guarded to protect Valachan from vicious beasts and raiding parties. All of these rivers and thousands of rocky streams across Valachan teem with salmon and trout. The Valachani have taken a characteristically pragmatic approach to naming their forests. The Broad Forest stretches from the Mordentish border to Ungrad and from the edge of the world to the Broken Road. Home to hundreds of tiny hamlets, it also holds vast tracts of forest where humanity rarely intrudes. These areas grow more frequent toward the Misty Border, where spirits and unnatural occurrences are more common. The colder forested hills southeast of Ungrad are known as Bakkelande (Hill Country). Somewhere south of Ungrad in Bakkelande is the Path of Innocence, a Valachan at a Glance Cultural Level: Medieval (7) Ecology: Full Climate/Terrain: Temperate forests and hills Year of Formation: 625 BC Population: 19,100 Races: Human (97%), gnomes (2%), other (1%) Languages: Vaasi*, Mordentish, Gnome, Sithican Religions: Yutow*, Ezra, Hala Government: Aristocratic monarchy Ruler: Baron Urik von Kharkov Darklord: Baron Urik von Kharkov
88 Report Four poor quality one-way Mistway that Allandar’s Travelogue (the overly sensationalistic gazetteer for supernatural events) claims leads to a village inhabited only by children and a mad puppeteer. The long, thin forest east of the Broken Road and west of the Arden is the Forest That Watches, named for the uncanny sense one feels beneath its boughs. Although I had no problems passing through the forest, it is said to be home to unusually vicious panthers, which I suspect to be von Kharkov’s werepanther minions coming to or from Castle Pantara. Finally, east of the Arden is the northern Forest of Beasts and the more southerly Forest of Streams, separated by the Ulvflod River. Although both forests are rich in game and fish, few humans make their home here. The Black Leopards that constantly rove along the Verbrek border assume any travelers in this region are lycanthropes and attack on sight. Hunting in these forests is dangerous, but game is plentiful enough to reward those who try their luck. Temperatures are moderate all year round, but sweltering summers occur occasionally. Deep, wet snowfall blankets the countryside during winter months, rendering travel slow and laborious. My schedule did not allow me to dig in and wait for spring’s thaw, as the locals are wont to do. Valachani buildings are windowless lodges made of heavy logs or planks, with gabled roofs of black slate. Large, single-roomed houses are common even among wealthy nobles, who take great pride in their cavernous abodes and encourage villagers and travelers alike to socialize within. The buildings are elaborately carved with stylized animals, plants and fey, and proudly adorned with the heraldry of the lodge’s matriarch. A careful eye may note something slightly askew about many buildings and communities. In many lands, windows tend to face east or west, both to draw in daylight near dusk and dawn and to block chilling northern winds. In Valachan, however, many openings face the north, admitting cold and darkness. The simple, if somewhat staggering, reason for this lies in the Great Upheaval. Today, a map would show Valachan running vertically along the southwestern corner of the Core; prior to that cataclysm, however, it stretched horizontally along the southern border of Sithicus. From the Valachani point of view, the Great Upheaval wrenched their sunrise and sunset nearly 90 degrees from the norm.
89 Valachan Flora Valachan possesses rich, largely untapped plant resources. By far the most dominant species is the redwood, used across the country by builders, road workers, furniture makers and carpenters. Redwood is remarkably pest resistant; I saw a fallen tree trunk, untouched by rot or insect pests, that my guide swore had been in that state since his grandfather was young. An undergrowth of ferns thrives beneath their boughs. Cherry, willow, oak, yew and beech are not uncommon in the north, but the area around Ungrad is known for its vast variety of fungal life. These fungi range from common field mushrooms and toadstools to dangerous species such as brown and yellow molds, violet fungus and striped toadstools that are zealously destroyed whenever an infestation is discovered. Truffles are rare but highly valued. Barley, hops, peas, apples and flower bulbs are both widely cultivated and grow wild. Wheat was introduced from Mordent soon after Valachan emerged from the Mists decades ago and has since proved extremely successful. Valachan has one unique plant, the lily of eternal slumber, also called Yutow’s blood. Though extremely rare, the flower potentially grows anywhere in Valachan. It strongly resembles a normal lily, but opens nocturnally and is splashed with crimson inside. According to legend, the lily only grows where Yutow’s blood fell during the Pacification. I can attest that my efforts to transplant it failed. The lily is reputedly a powerful weapon against vampires, keeping them at bay and burning their flesh like sunlight or holy water. The flower remains fresh for seven days after being picked. Fauna The forests of Valachan teem with life, both natural and unnatural. Boar and deer are common, while moose roam the south and wild sheep thrive in the canyons. Wolves are common only in Bakkelande; elsewhere, dire weasels, dire badgers and dire wolverines have displaced them and filled their niche. Black and brown bears are also often sighted. Of course, the top predator throughout Valachan is the mørkenkat, or panther, although the Valachani use that term in a frustratingly vague fashion to refer to any cat-like creature with a black pelt. The most common breeds are 4 feet long and weigh 120 pounds, but I discovered foot prints in the muddy banks of the Arden River that suggested a beast five times as large. Rotwald’s Singing Bone Inn has a claw hanging above the bar that must have come from an animal 35 feet long. Regardless, Valachan’s peasants obstinately refer to all these monstrosities as mere “panthers.” The Valachani also have a hopelessly muddled view of spirits that live in their forests. This multipurpose term refers to fey, ghosts and personifications of forest creatures. Something about the Valachani forests does suggest alien eyes are watching. Several times I heard strange music on the wind or half-glimpsed a sudden movement. The very name “Valachan” is derived from the Vaasi word for “haunted.” The most popular stories feature shapeshifters. Legends are unclear whether the natural form of these creatures is humanoid or animal; the ability to change shape is far more important than what they originally looked like. In the two experiments I was able to perform on Lilies of Eternal Slumber Anyone holding a lily of eternal slumber gains a +4 sacred bonus to Will saves to resist a vampire’s domination. Those already dominated may make another save with no bonus to break free when they touch the flower, although they feel a strong aversion to doing so. The lily can be used as a lawful good holy symbol to keep vampires at bay and acts like holy water if used to strike a vampire, although this destroys the lily. If a wreath of four or more lilies is placed around a vampire’s neck, the vampire is affected as if by full sunlight until the wreath is removed. Thus, nosferatu lose their powers while the wreath is around their neck, and normal vampires are disoriented and then destroyed. If the vampire tries to remove the wreath, each flower inflicts damage as a vial of holy water before being removed. Finally, if a lily is placed on a vampire’s coffin while the vampire is inside, the vampire is trapped in a deathly slumber (effectively hibernating) until another creature removes the bloom. The vampire can regenerate normally while inside the coffin, but may eventually face starvation.
90 Report Four captured shapechangers, I discovered that both subjects were lycanthropes, susceptible to silver, not cold iron. Skogsra and elvsra are mercurial forest and river fey, respectively, that appear in a myriad of forms, although those in animal shape are supposedly far more common than humanoid fey. Their moods are notoriously volatile, and gift-giving is widely used to placate them. I often came across little treasures, their value largely sentimental, hidden near brooks and old trees for these spirits. The legendary king of the skogsra is konge skyggehest, a shadowy, horse-like creature that lives at the heart of the Bredskoven. Corporeal undead are almost unheard of in Valachan and usually represented in folktales as mindlessly destructive creatures filled with nothing but hatred. In the entire time I was in Valachan, I only heard one story about vampires, which were described as foul beasts that spread disease and cannot bear the touch of moonlight. Although such creatures do exist, I suspect the lack of legends concerning vampires is due to a conscious and subtle effort by von Kharkov to discourage their telling. I will discuss my theories on how he accomplished this in The Realm, below. History lthough the two groups share no ethnic ties, Valachani have a few tenuous cultural threads in common with the Kartakans. Primarily, they make little distinction between myth and history. The Valachani’s suspicion of any kind of education means most possess only rudimentary literacy. Few people keep records beyond those necessary for tax purposes. Highly social people, the Valachani’s rich oral history is preserved in both immutable rituals and less rigidly preserved folktales. Although I checked my history against available tax records and those kept at the Hospice of Healing Hands, once again I am forced to rely on a weak foundation of rumor, gossip and legend. Deep in Valachan’s false history, a nameless race of dark-skinned barbarians inhabited the land, living as hunter-gatherers in the primeval forest, perfectly at one with nature. Yutow the Provider (a “green man”-like figure depicted as partway between a human adept and a fey god) lived among them, maintaining the natural balance of the forest with his magic and fey servants. Sometime around 320 BC, a tan-skinned folk the Valachani call the Vaasi appeared out of the Mists and embarked on a terrible war called the Pacification. Intriguingly, these Vaasi share little in common with the modern inhabitants of Nova Vaasa, though their depiction is vaguely similar to the notorious invaders of Kartakan folk history. I look forward to examining this matter further when I survey Nova Vaasa, as I suspect I will once again discover that this mysterious race of invaders has no basis in objective reality. Over the next twenty years, the Vaasi slaughtered hundred of natives and enslaved hundreds more. The Vaasi also arrived carrying White Fever; this was a minor illness for their people, but with no resistance, countless natives lost their lives to the disease. The Vaasi felled trees, opened mines near Rotwald, founded villages and hunted game almost to extinction. The Arden flooded from the torrent of blood and tears flowing into it. Each act of devastation opened a new wound in Yutow’s body. The god was supposedly unable to stop the devastation because the Vaasi lived “outside nature,” where he had no power. Finally, the panther, most cunning of animals, discovered the only way Yutow could save his realm. Yutow sacrificed himself to bring both sides Local Animals and Native Horrors Wildlife: Wildlife: Wildlife: CR 1/10 — bat; toad; CR 1/10 CR 1/8 — rat; CR 1/8 CR 1/ 6 — raven; 6 CR 1/4 — CR 1/4 cat; owl; weasel; CR 1/3 — CR 1/3 hawk; snake, Tiny viper; CR 1/2 — badger; eagle; CR 1/2 snake, Small viper; CR 1 — snake, Medium viper; CR 1 wolf; CR 2 — bear, brown; boar; CR 2 leopard; snake, constrictor, wolverine; CR 4 — bear, black; CR 4 tiger. Monsters: Monsters: Any Large or smaller giant or monstrous Monsters: vermin; CR 1/2 — geist*; plant, bloodrose*; CR 1/2 CR 1 — fungus, shrieker; plant, fearweed*; razorback*; sprite, grig; sprite, nixie; CR 2 — assassin bug, CR 2 giant*; dire badger; dire weasel; plant, crawling ivy*; satyr; CR 3 — allip; assassin vine; baobhan sith*; CR 3 boowray*; drownling*; fungus, violet; lycanthrope, wereboar; midnight cat*; shadow; CR 4 — dire CR 4 wolverine; dire boar; lycanthrope, werepanther (see Attached Notes); nosferatu spawn*; plant, lashweed*; unicorn, shadow*; vampire spawn; CR 5 — dire lion; hag, green; troll; werebear; weretiger; CR 6 — hag, annis; nymph; CR 6 CR 7 — ghost; CR 7 nosferatu*; spectre; vampire, vrykolaka; CR 8 — dire tiger; dread treant; CR 10 — plant, quickwood*. CR 10 Nosferatu and nosferatu spawn are under von Kharkov’s control only if they are his progeny.
91 Valachan to harmony, merging the two races into one. The newly created Valachani possessed the independence and wilderness skills of the natives, and the language, complex society, and tendency toward tyrannical governments of the Vaasi. Valachan’s confused theology maintains that Yutow is indisputably dead but still conscious and able to guide his followers. My attempts to probe this contradiction only solicited the vague explanation that “gods are not alike to men”; my comparison with undeath was not taken well, to phrase it mildly. In any event, because the dead have no place in the natural world, Yutow departed Valachan for the moon, and the Valachani were left as a scattering of city-states for more than two centuries. In 576 BC, Heinrich von Ostlin, the tyrannical mayor of Helbenik, united Valachan with a cunning mix of assassination, blackmail and political marriages, welding the independent villages into one nation. Von Ostlin declared himself baron and ruled with unyielding savagery for nearly 50 years, publicly slaughtering any who spoke against him and imposing massive taxes to pay for the construction of a huge keep near Helbenik. In 625 BC, an unusually inquisitive Rotwaldi man named Urik von Kharkov returned from travels abroad (including Darkon, notably) and began to ferment dissent in his home town. This activity quickly attracted von Ostlin’s attention; von Kharkov was arrested, beaten and dragged before the baron. Common myth holds that von Kharkov stared his captor in the eye despite his injuries and swore to kill Ostlin for his crimes against Valachan. While von Ostlin laughed mockingly, the bonds inexplicably fell from von Kharkov’s arms. He immediately leapt forward and broke the ancient baron’s neck. Von Kharkov assumed the barony; in a sign of “divine approval,” the Mists parted to the north, revealing Valachan’s neighbors in those days: Invidia, Gundarak and Kartakass. I conclude, therefore, that von Kharkov’s ascendance marks the beginning of Valachan’s true history. The well-loved Urik I ruled for fifty-one years from von Ostlin’s old castle, which he converted with the help of a levy taken erratically from one of the three main towns into the shape of his heraldic animal and renamed Castle Pantara. During this period, he created a private army, the Black Leopards, and gave the mayors of Helbenik, Rotwald and Ungrad a seat on his council for them to air their grievances. Urik I was by no means an eventempered or kind man, but compared to his predecessor he ruled lightly so long as his rule was respected, his taxes paid, and his privacy left inviolate. All this came to an end in 671 BC, when he was killed by the Cat of Felkovic, a magic statue created by a mad wizard. His son, Urik II, emerged from seclusion to gain the throne. Urik II ruled slightly more capriciously than his father, instituting a bridal lottery to find a wife. These women invariably died of White Fever, ran away, or simply disappeared within a year, prompting an unloved tradition of near-annual lotteries. (Intriguingly, the few records I uncovered suggest the lottery already operated under Urik I, although everyone I spoke to swore Urik II created it.) Urik II’s biggest mistake was likely the appointment of Lady Adeline, a sadistic, foreign elf, as chief tax collector. Her vile behavior sparked several revolts between 680 and 730 BC, which quickly spiraled into protests over the work levies at Castle Pantara, the lottery and Urik II’s oppressive taxation. All uprisings were brutally stamped out and their leaders made into grisly examples. The most recent revolt occurred in 740 BC, notable because it almost succeeded. Urik II barely survived a magical assassination attempt. As he was struck down, terrible earthquakes shook Valachan. The country was physically wrenched away from its bed south of Sithicus and slammed into its current position. This event was taken as another sign from Yutow that the von Kharkov dynasty is divinely appointed to rule; I see it as clever propaganda used to explain the events of the Great Upheaval. Valachan has been relatively peaceful since the Great Upheaval, though White Fever remains an epidemic. Fortunately, the country has suffered few truly lethal outbreaks since the Great Epidemic of 736 BC, a terrible plague that nearly devastated Ungrad. Populace alachan is home to a single ethnic group, albeit one that is unusually heterogeneous in appearance. Most Valachani live in tiny villages scattered across the heart of the realm, growing scarce near the borders with the Mists and Verbrek, and around Castle Pantara and the Scarlet Maze. Valachani are steadfast folk who greatly prize their unique culture. Although they are undeniably ignorant, superstitious and backward, something in their stern, quiet bearing makes them compelling.
92 Report Four Appearance Valachani are tall, muscular people, with broad shoulders and long, sturdy limbs. They lead rough lives — most subsist as hunters, furriers, fishermen, or farmers — shaped by necessity into hard, fit, nononsense folk completely at home in their wild environment. Predators and the often-dangerous terrain quickly weed out those who take to flights of fancy or laziness. Scars are frequent and often worn with pride; both sexes consider it advantageous to marry those who can support themselves and their families, and scarring is strong evidence that they have survived everything the forest can throw at them. Of course, too much scarring is a sign of foolhardiness and is avoided as strenuously as cowards who are scar-free. Most Valachani have dark skin the color of Borcan coffee, though colors ranging from a creamy tan to nearly charcoal black occur, relics of the imperfect melding of the Vaasi and the indigenous race in Valachan’s false history. Common lore holds that those with darker skin are more passive but better attuned to natural cycles, while pale skin implies a passionate nature. In my experience, however, this folk wisdom is simply unthinking stereotyping, and skin color suggests nothing of an individual’s talents or flaws. Despite the variation in skin color, hair color is inevitably glossy black, worn long and straight by both genders. Beards and moustaches are never worn (foreigners who do so can expect stares), but long sideburns are popular. Eye color is usually dark brown, but occasionally an individual is born with disturbing bile-yellow eyes. These rare folk are said to have panther spirits somewhere in their ancestry and are regarded with a mixture of fear and awe. These “cat’s-eyes” are said to be the (often unwitting) servants of Yutow and capable of controlling the god’s panthers. Less fancifully, they are remarkably long-lived and gifted hunters. Conversely, they have a tendency to cruelty and narcissism and are doomed to tragedy in their personal lives. The paragon example of this curse is Urik II. He has ruled Valachan for nearly eighty years and still seems in his prime, but all of his marriages ended badly. Many see this trend as proof of the curse of bearing spirit blood. Others say these sinister facts show the baron’s heritage has made him truly inhuman, and his wives flee or are killed by his attentions.
93 Valachan This curse is also often applied to any mortal liaisons with the fey or fey-born. Legends of people damned to eternal misery for a single tryst with a half-elf or elf are common throughout Valachan. Fashion Valachani clothing is simple, durable and well suited to wilderness life. Both men and women prefer loose trousers and tunics made of leather or wool, occasionally trimmed with fur in the colder months. Thicker fabric and more fur are worn in Bakkelande, which is notably colder than the rest of Valachan. Faded black or white are favored, accented with bold reds, blues and greens and further decorated with fringes and animal teeth. The dyes used on these clothes are all prepared with a variety of plant products, and a quiet rivalry occurs among the young men of a village to prove themselves the most accomplished woodsmen by preparing the brightest and most unusual colors. Nobles import exotic dyes and so show the greatest variation and finest color of all. Long cloaks of waterproof leather are worn to keep out the rain, but more often the Valachani simply ignore rain until they can dry out by a fire. Valachani wear laced, knee-high boots of plain, soft leather throughout the year, even when not outdoors. Simple, naturalistic jewelry is common to both sexes. Leather necklaces and bracelets are most common, adorned with animal teeth, shaped copper, gold medallions and intricately knotted leather thongs. Nobles display their wealth by replacing their leather cords with gold chains, from which hang precious stones, minted coins, and their coats of arms. Lifestyle & Education The Valachani have a reputation as being stern, silent and proud. They are also considerate to travelers, respectful of women, and engage in a rich social life among themselves. Like the Verbrekers, they see themselves as struggling to survive against the forces of nature, but unlike their neighbors, they wear their hardship with pride. All Valachani, regardless of gender, are taught from a young age the basic principles of farming, fishing, hunting and survival in the wilderness. Woodsmanship is the only way to earn respect, so those who take up any profession that does not let one demonstrate wilderness lore is doomed to disgrace and dishonor. The Valachani reputation for arrogance in other lands stems from this attitude: they believe that most cultures have become lazy and fat with their settled lives and book learning. Education and literacy are symptoms of cultural decline from a fierce, honorable rustic society to a valueless, decadent cityscape. I have never encountered a populace so willfully ignorant. In the last century, less than a dozen books have been printed in Valachan, most of those the work of a single arcanist, Perseyus Lathenna. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to locate this mysterious scholar, but the rest of Valachani society is unanimously contemptuous of Lathenna’s work. Once one has proved one’s worth to the Valachani, their demeanor changes completely. They think nothing of inviting neighbors into their homes for meals — a far cry from the cautious natures of their Barovian or Verbreker counterparts. Individualism is still evident. No customs require special treatment of guests, who are expected to pull their own weight, and hosts frequently ignore or abandon guests who place demands on their independence. Families are close-knit, however, knowing they have only each other to depend on. Each settlement is like a large family; individual families in each settlement may squabble and feud in times of plenty, but unhesitatingly pull together in emergencies. The folk of each village secretly consider themselves superior to neighboring communities. Women are seen as the primary protectors and defenders of the home. The wife is responsible for the overall welfare of her family; any important decisions are hers to make, and as the head of the household, the matriarch commands the respect of those who live with her. During a marriage ceremony, the groom places himself under his bride’s protection, taking her name and coat of arms and moving into her house. In return, she ritualistically swears to protect her family from everything from bad luck and spirits to predators and thieves to immorality and malnutrition. For example, in Ungrad, many poisonous species of mushroom look similar to edible species, so the wife must taste any food before the rest of her family, to ensure it is safe to eat. In cases where a wife fails to fulfill her duties, Valachani law permits the husband to divorce her if he can prove her negligence to an aristocratic court. Such divorces are rare and treated very seriously. Even when found negligent, the mother retains control of most of the family’s assets. Women can begin divorce proceedings for any number of reasons, although doing so is equally serious.
94 Report Four I suspect this respect for women is why von Kharkov’s long parade of abused wives so horrifies the baron’s opponents. They can live with his violent minions and the levy — when seemingly random numbers of people are conscripted from Helbenik, Rotwald or Ungrad for unpaid work at Castle Pantara for anything from a single night to a month. The bridal lottery, however, ferments distress like nothing else. Each year, von Kharkov forcefully takes a random woman as his bride; to date, each unfortunate soul has vanished within a matter of months. A few are said to have died from White Fever; others, to have fled Castle Pantara for distant lands. A journal from the Hospice of Sheltered Grace near Castle Pantara records that in 696 BC the baron’s bride of a few months fled to the Hospice for shelter, covered in bruises and cuts and begging the witches to protect her from her monstrous husband. The poor woman was apparently killed when the building collapsed shortly after her arrival. Such brutality to Valachani women is otherwise unheard of, and von Kharkov is regarded with unbelieving horror whenever rumor brings his crimes to light. In addition to marriage, other milestones are celebrated with exceedingly complex rituals, the words of which are strictly preserved in an otherwise antiquated form of Vaasi. Births, coming of age, seasonal changes and deaths all have their own rituals and are accompanied by lengthy festivals in which handcrafted gifts are exchanged and magnificent feasts devoured. As an example, funerals are highly ritualized, including standardized words of mourning, particular hymns sung only at funerals, and the requirement that the corpse be exposed to moonlight all night so the deceased’s spirit can find its way to Yutow. Even storytelling (a favorite Valachani past time) is preceded by a ritualistic “Listen to me!” Gift giving is another way to increase or demonstrate status. Giving an elaborate gift shows that one not only has the skill to create the gift, but is a talented enough woodsman to have the time to create it. Thus, gifts hold an important place in courtship, and many families silently jockey for position with the quality of their gifts. Each extravagant present means another rung up the social ladder; each gift not repaid in kind is a loss of status. These gifts are almost always impractical. Giving a weapon or tool implies that the recipients possess neither the talent to craft their own nor the wealth to buy it — a grievous insult. Valachani eat fruit, vegetables and roast meat, though stews and soups are also popular. Offal meats are marinated with herbs, baked over coals and served with baked apples in a delicious meal called deiligmat. Most meals are accompanied by sweet yogurts, custard and candied fruit. Mushrooms provide a staple in many communities, particularly during the winter, when a village’s middens often provide important food reserves. Fungi are particularly popular in Ungrad, where they form the basis of every meal, but are eaten only occasionally elsewhere. The pickled and salted foods produced at Castle Pantara are a popular, if acquired, taste. Staple drinks among the Valachani include the heavy, dark stout brewed in Rotwald and the north, water, herbal teas and drikke, milk mixed with sheep or goat’s blood, which is used to aid recovery from White Fever. A small portion of each meal is usually left at the foot of a nearby tree or dumped into a stream to appease the spirits. White Fever is a disease of epidemic proportions in Valachan. Not to be confused with the deadly Sithican White Fever, the Valachani disease is a mild cold-like illness causing lethargy, dizziness, weakness, listlessness and the pallor that gives the disease its name. In victims suffering from particularly lengthy bouts, the fingernails thin and then begin to bend upwards. Most cases recover fully, given bed rest and a diet rich in red meat, but some die, simply wasting away. It is said that victims killed by White Fever are tied to the places of their deaths as ghosts. Folklore maintains that White Fever is spread through insect bites or patches of fog tainted by the Misty Border. Although cases are commonly reported all over Valachan, the insects reputedly infesting Castle Pantara are apparently particularly virulent, as the disease strikes almost everyone who spends any time at the castle, including a significant number of the Baron’s wives. Although I claim no expertise in diseases, even to my untrained eye these symptoms are remarkably similar to those of anemia, while the “insect bites” that spread the disease almost invariably appear in pairs near a major blood vessel. Wounds such as these do appear in other lands, though there they go by other names in which I am fully conversant: strigoi, nosferatu, vrykolaka. In my estimation, the White Fever epidemic is caused by nothing less than vampire feeding, though I shudder to consider the implications of such widespread predation.
95 Valachan Language Valachani speak a coarse dialect of Vaasi. As long as both parties speak slowly and carefully, Valachani can understand the dialects spoken in Kartakass, Hazlan and Nova Vaasa, and vice versa. In Valachani Vaasi, the “r” is rolled and vowels extended, giving the language a purring, relaxed lilt. equipped with control over animals, plants, humans and spirits, but few Valachani would honestly say the rewards are worthwhile. Often, they respect the office, but not the priests themselves. In contrast, arcane magic is the worst form of blasphemy against the natural order. Somewhat incoherently, “unnatural” wizards and sorcerers are said to be in league with natural spirits and are regarded with terror. Arcane spellcasters who practice their craft openly can expect to be reviled, driven from villages and almost certainly arrested by the Black Leopards. Religion Most Valachani are deeply religious and devoted to their unique moon god, Yutow the Peacebringer. Their existence is precarious, surrounded by fierce predators, mercurial fey and an oppressive ruler, and religion grants the Valachani some feeling of control, however negligible. Typically, Valachani see prayer as another tool to increase their odds of survival. Very few actually become ordained. Priests of any faith are expected to act as a foil of Valachani isolationism and devote themselves to their community as a whole. They arbitrate disputes among nobles, ensure taxes are paid, appease spirits and Black Leopards alike, and care for those unable to support themselves. These duties leave little time to hunt or farm, so priests instead rely on weekly tithes from each family in their village to survive. As discussed above, this “urban” lifestyle dissuades most Valachani from the priesthood. Most villages have only a single priest of Yutow (called a moarnekone, meaning “married to the moon”) and an acolyte, and in the largest communities a smattering of anchorites or witches as well. Shallow Feeding and White Fever Vampires must feed every night, typically by inflicting permanent Constitution drain. Given time, a vampire’s predation can decimate the population of its feeding grounds. A vampire who wants to preserve its feeding stock or simply keep a low profile can instead rely on “shallow” feeding, inflicting only temporary ability score damage rather than permanent drain. A vampire utilizing shallow feeding must consume twice as many points of the applicable ability score each night to slake its thirst, however. The typical vampire would thus need to inflict 8 points of temporary Constitution damage each night to sustain itself. Valachan’s White Fever epidemic is entirely the result of the widespread shallow feeding of Baron von Kharkov and his handful of nosferatu spawn. Von Kharkov prefers to take just a single point of Constitution from eight separate victims each night, giving him more dominated servants and indefinitely preserving his food supply. Vaasi Primer Having already examined Vaasi in my reports on Hazlan and Kartakass, here I expand on that vocabulary. English Vaasi day daag night natten sun solen moon moarne town byen, plads inn kroen thank you takk spirit spøkelse tax skatt Attitudes Toward Magic In many ways, Valachani have a contemptuous view of magic. To gain access to divine magic, clerics must devote themselves to their communities, an occupation that does not allow them time for more honorable pursuits such as fishing and trapping. In return for their sacrifice, they are
96 Report Four The faithful of Yutow believe he watches over them constantly, protecting them, alert to any signs of immorality, and occasionally testing their faith. He is said to take priests who grow too strong in their faith (or draw too much attention to themselves) to serve him, either in their physical bodies or as spirits. A more analytical observer might conclude that most priests eventually disappear or are torn apart by panthers. Foreign faiths see this as a warning, and have learned to keep to themselves and not interfere in Valachan’s political machinery. Moarnekone, however, actively look forward to the day Yutow will take them. The Church of Yutow: Yutow was originally the god of Valachan’s indigenous folk, but he killed himself to end the Pacification. The Dead God now watches over Valachan from the moon, guiding and protecting his people via his clerics and fey servants. His special servants are panther spirits and those who bear their blood. The religion is monotheistic; although minor spirits abound, Yutow is the only one with the power over life and death and so the only one fit to be called a god. Other gods such as Hala and Ezra are spirit trickery or misinterpretations of Yutow caused by the sedentary lifestyles and over-education of other lands. Although each moarnekone’s authority ends at the borders of the village he watch over, it is a social priesthood, with members frequently traveling to neighboring villages to meet their peers and discuss matters of faith. They also serve as diplomats: if two villages have a dispute over fishing or farming rights, the moarnekone will meet to work out a solution. Once a year, under a full moon, all moarnekone congregate at a sacred site near Castle Pantara to pray for Yutow’s blessings for Valachan as a whole. Valachani churches, which also act as homes for the moarnekone, have no roof over the nave, allowing moonlight to shine on the icon of Yutow each night. These icons depict Yutow just before he died: a green-skinned man with wild yellow eyes, his face creased with pain and his body covered in bleeding wounds and bruises. His broken legs trail uselessly behind him as he supports himself on one hand and raises the other to protect his charges. “That which is dead cannot suffer still” is carved onto the icon’s base. The Valachani supposedly find these statues both sorrowful and uplifting. I found them disturbing. Yutow the Peacebringer, the Dead God Symbol: A silver circle split by a vertical diamond, representing both the phases of the moon and a cat’s eye. Alignment: Lawful neutral. Portfolio: Law, obedience, fate, order, nature, fertility, protection, the moon, cats. Domains: Animal, Law, Plant, Protection. Favored Weapon: Sickle. All clerics of Yutow, even evil ones, turn undead rather than command them. Clerics of Yutow pray for their spells when the moon reaches its zenith and hold services at moonrise. If they multiclass, it is often as druids. Dogma: The state of all things is mandated from above and is not to be questioned. As Yutow himself suffered to protect his charges, so must his worshippers uncomplainingly undergo trials in this life to prove themselves worthy of his devotion. Those who do will be given immortality as a natural spirit; those who do not are reincarnated to suffer again until they learn their lesson. Those who live as rebels or lawbreakers will be annihilated, their spirits dispersed into the Mists. Those who worship Yutow will be protected from nature’s fury and granted good harvests and plentiful game. Those who do not will face nature in all its untamed splendor, red in tooth and claw. Unnatural things — arcane magic, corporeal undead and so forth — are the worst forms of blasphemy. Ezra: The Mordentish sect of the Church of Ezra has only limited success in Valachan, founding a moderately sized temple in Helbenik and a few smaller shrines in surrounding villages. The more compassionate teachings of this church appeal to a few Valachani, and the anchorites’ ability to take care of themselves improves their standing. Von Kharkov has done little to control the Church’s presence in his domain, although I suspect that
97 Valachan would change in an instant if it started seriously eroding the Church of Yutow’s influence or opposed the baron. Hala: The unobtrusive Church of Hala seems to thrive in Valachan. They run small hospices just outside the boundaries of many villages, cleverly escaping any clashes that could arise with the Church of Yutow. (I remind my patron that a moarnekone’s authority traditionally halts at the borders of her village). The witches never proselytize, help only those who seek them out, and spend much of their time in research. Their naturalistic faith appeals to many Valachani, who allow them to lead lives relatively free of persecution. The Realm aron Urik von Kharkov rules in much the same way as his father — lightly while his word is respected, but tyrannically crushing any opposition or dissent. If my theory is correct, this similarity is because they are actually one person: Valachan’s true dread lord. Descriptions of father and son are uncannily similar: tall, muscular, handsome warriors with yellow eyes and a commanding presence, who are known for their eccentric obsessions with privacy and obedience. Both always wear gloves in public and (according to written records, at least) draw the levy and the bridal lottery from each of Valachan’s three main towns in turn. I submit that von Kharkov is a nosferatu, a form of vampire that The Valachani Hero Races: Humans are by far the most common race in Valachan, but many gnomes have been tempted to settle the domain from Darkon, Hazlan and Nova Vaasa by the fierce demand for their skills. Calibans are frequently born, but are then abandoned to the elements. Classes: Valachan is a wild land, and rustic classes such as barbarians, druids, fighters, sorcerers and especially rangers are common. Rangers and barbarians are held in high regard as the defenders and providers for their villages; their ability to survive in Valachan’s eldritch forests is seen as particularly praiseworthy. Although bards’ tales are enjoyed, Valachani tend to regard the musicians as shiftless fops and layabouts, and keep close watch on them to ensure they pull their own weight. Of the spellcasters, clerics command some respect among the common folk, but those who proselytize too vigorously have a tendency to vanish. Druids are more common and are less likely to disappear than priests of more public churches. Sorcerers are relatively common but are vilified for their unnatural talents. Along with wizards, they are often arrested or executed by the Black Leopards. Recommended Skills: Climb, Craft (basketweaving, bowmaking, carpentry), Hide, Knowledge (nature), Move Silently, Profession (farmer, guide, herbalist, hunter, lumberjack), Spot, Survival. Recommended Feats: Alertness, Courage, Haunted, Improved Critical, Point Blank Shot (plus derivatives), Portents*, Reincarnated, Skill Focus (Survival), Track, Warding Gesture* (fey, shapechangers, undead), Weapon Focus (composite longbow * See Van Richten’s Arsenal. Male Names: Aksell, Arkin, Audun, Brand, Davin, Egil, Erik, Jens, Kristen, Mikkel, Mogens, Morten, Nils, Oleg, Ragnar, Rurik, Skjøld, Stefan, Trigue, Varik. Female Names: Aleksia, Andras, Birget, Dakin, Faiga, Falda, Grette, Katarine, Kristen, Liese, Magna, Nissa, Rakel, Reidun, Saffi, Semine, Sula, Unni, Vanja, Ylwa. Outcast Ratings in Valachan Gnomes and Vistani possess the virtues of self-sufficiency, practicality and an active communal life. As such, they enjoy a –1 bonus to their OR among Valachani. Elves, halflings and calibans are seen as fey creatures and suffer a +1 penalty to their OR, as do “bookish” characters from Chivalric and Renaissance cultures (CL 8+) and those unable to survive in the wild.
98 Report Four gains control over its victims by drinking their blood. White Fever infection is particularly likely to occur near the baron and certain of his servants. A magical charm would account for the love many Valachani hold for the baron despite his constant abuses, while the fact that nosferatu draw their power from moonlight could also explain the Valachani’s reverence for the moon and von Kharkov’s occasional appearances in daylight. To claim that one being could so influence a culture may seem absurd at first, but I remind my patron that von Kharkov has controlled the minds of his subjects through magical and mundane means for more than a century. This is easily sufficient time to remake a culture into something more beneficial to himself. of the Black Leopards; those that are not still act on the baron’s orders and operate as spies or assassins. Black Leopards are never stationed in villages where they grew up — or at least, those that do are no longer recognizable. I managed to capture a Black Leopard in Helbenik, and with gentle persuasion she produced a most rewarding interview. I discovered werepanthers are susceptible to silver weapons, and utilizing such a device, I found that my subject’s facial muscles showed evidence of displacement. Muscles that were now slack had once been much tighter, and vice versa. I was fortunate to have a living subject to work with, as the clues were subtle and would have been lost in death. I believe that something about being infected with this strain of lycanthropy alters the facial structure of the victims, changing their appearance enough to render them unrecognizable to those who used to know them, while still allowing them to use their local knowledge. I recall von Kharkov from his time in the Kargat’s service: a beast who dreamed of being a man. Such intelligent, sustained control would not be beyond him, especially given the spur of his paranoia. Government Baron Urik von Kharkov is the undisputed ruler of Valachan, having weathered several revolts and a number of assassination attempts. On the rare occasions he gives an order, it is obeyed without question or severely punished. More frequently, the Veiled Mistress Lady Adeline, his chief tax collector, acts with his authority, dispersing the baron’s commands and edicts as she compiles the tithes. Even more frequently, the Black Leopards, the baron’s private army of expert woodsmen and soldiers, protect von Kharkov’s interests, collecting tariffs, enforcing the bridal lottery and rounding up anyone unfortunate enough to draw the baron’s ire. Monstrous sadists and zealously loyal to their lord to the last, when left to themselves the Black Leopards amuse themselves by bullying, robbing and even murdering passers-by. They are quite literally a law unto themselves; Valachani have nowhere to complain about the soldiers’ behavior. My few experiments into the matter lead me to conclude that the Black Leopards are heavily infiltrated by, if not completely composed of, lycanthropes — specifically, werepanthers. Conversely, werepanthers are almost always members How convenient for the panther. Our tormentors were most creative to grant my ex-slave such a boon. Black Leopards rely on fear to keep the Valachani in line, and those who refuse to be bullied are attacked. Luckily, most Leopards wear black chain shirts that hamper their ability to change form, so combatants are likely to retain whatever form they started with in a fight. The Black Leopards wield horrific magic weapons called baron’s arms, akin to a small, bladed whip attached to a heavy mace. Baron’s arms inflict terrible scars when wielded properly and are most often used to punish lawbreakers. The fear these weapons inspire is grossly inflated from their ability to actually damage flesh. Although von Kharkov himself is loved by many and respected by all, the Black Leopards are only reviled. The baron is rumored to have another secret police force known as the Cat’s Claws, although I could uncover no real proof of their existence. Some say the Cat’s Claws are composed of spirits of air, who snatch secrets from conspirators’ lips and whisk them to the baron’s ear. The baron’s ability to uncover secrets is certainly unrivaled and has often let him move in time to solve problems before they could truly begin.
99 Valachan Taxes form the root of von Kharkov’s control over Valachan. Every border crossing, including those on rivers, has a customs house where Black Leopards assess the value of goods passing either way and extract a tax. They also note the names, professions, destinations and nationalities of travelers and confiscate any exotic weapons they carry. Folk who seem to be arcane magic users are closely questioned and, if unlucky, may be executed on the spot for unnatural acts. Each season, Lady Adeline leads a squad of Black Leopards to each village in turn to collect taxes — a flat rate based on the number of adults in the settlement, regardless of seasonal variations in productivity. Arrogant and extraordinarily vicious, Adeline can be bribed to forget the taxes if a handsome youth will accompany her into the forest. If the youth emerges at all, he is bearing scars within and without. Technically, Adeline is head of the Black Leopards as well as chief tax collector, but Varik Dakk represents the Black Leopards in matters unrelated to taxation, such as the defense of the realm. Generally, as long as taxes are paid, life in Valachan is peaceful. The most powerful noble families administer justice and arbitrate disputes as they see fit. When necessary, moarnekone arbitrate disputes between nobles in which an aristocratic tribunal might be biased. Corruption is Secret Society: The Cat’s Claws There is no proof of the Cat’s Claws’ existence because no such organization exists; the truth is far more insidious. Instead, von Kharkov controls a huge network of charmed and dominated slaves across Valachan. Von Kharkov and his handful of nosferatu slaves feed shallowly on a number of victims each night. Thus, every night a score or so of Valachani are dominated. Whenever a controlled person discovers something he believes needs von Kharkov’s attention, he reports it to a moarnekone or Black Leopard, who passes it on until it reaches the baron himself, creating the largest network of unsuspecting informants in Ravenloft.